


Underclass Hero

by myownremorse



Category: MCU, Marvel
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, College AU, F/M, Marvel - Freeform, Marvel College AU, SHIELD University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownremorse/pseuds/myownremorse
Summary: Natasha Romanov has just moved to New York from Russia on an academic scholarship to go to school at SHIELD University where she meets Tony Stark, and the two immediately butt heads, but maybe they have a lot more in common than originally thought.





	1. Chapter 1

College. Very few things scared Natalia Romanova, but the thought of college sure did. Ever since the death of her parents at twelve, the little redhead had grown up in a girls’ home in Russia. It wasn’t a usual orphanage, or at least not compared to most. It was also a school, so Nat was able to receive her education, and for that she was grateful, but upon turning eighteen, it was time for her to move on. And for Natasha, that meant starting over. 

 

Living in Russia was too painful for her, and without her family, she didn’t really see a life for her there, so she had started applying for colleges. One in New York accepted her, and it seemed the most reasonable of all of them. Shield University. The weather was cold, like home, and they were offering her the most money. She had learned well at her school, and she was smart enough to get a few high paying grants between her level of scholarship and the fact that her yearly income was nothing. 

 

The first semester of school had gone by without a hassle. Upon her arrival, Natalia dropped her Russian name and picked up a more Americanized one. It was a part of the whole ‘new life’ thing. “Natasha Romanov.” 

 

She introduced herself to her English 102 teacher and took her seat in the far left corner from the door. Natasha liked to be able to see the entire room at all times. It just made her feel comfortable. Her major had been Art History with a Dancing Minor. English and Creative writing were just two of the things she had the pleasure of enjoying at the university. Reading had always been one of her favorite things to do. Sitting in her seat, the freshly dyed burgundy haired girl pulled out her laptop and opened it on her desk, ready to take some notes.

 

Music blared through the car stereo, rattling the windows. Tony's eyes were closed, reclined in his seat as he bobbed his head lazily to the cacophony of guitar filling his sports car. He was in no rush to get to class and he took long, dramatic drags of his cigarette as if he had no place to be. He exhaled slowly and let the smoke curl around him, only opening his eyes to admire his handy work and draw patterns in the smoke with his fingers. He knew the drill. The young engineering student had already endured a semester at SU and wasn't entirely enthusiastic about heading back for the second half of the year.   
  
It wasn't that school was hard - the exact opposite, really. Despite having been academically ready for university when he was 13, Tony's parents had insisted that he complete high school in the customary amount of time. He was an only child and he had always been hard to rein in. Tony's intellect and curiosity were overwhelming and resulted in a noticeable lack of impulse control. Needless to say, his parents hoped to force a certain level of normalcy on the young genius. He was free to study as he wanted, and his parents considerable means made that an easy feat, but he wasn't allowed to head off to university until he was 18. He looked young enough, so when he finally ended up at Shield University at 20, he didn't feel compelled to correct anyone when they assumed he was the same age as his classmates. Coming from a wealthy family, people already knew more about him than he would have liked. It was one of the rare times that the overconfident student would hold his tongue. 

 

Tony was a brash young man who was rarely wrong. And while suffering through the banality of high school curriculum, Tony had devoured every piece of information he could get his hands on in his spare time. He built robots, computers, his own AI and had at least a few thesis proposals tucked away for a rainy day. But the "social aspect" of school held enough importance to his parents who hoped against hope to rein in their unruly son. So here he was for semester two. He could practically teach the courses he was sitting through, but it was just a matter of time until he could prove himself and start his work in earnest.   
  
Tony turned down the music, and squinted through his dark sunglasses at the building in front of him. He figured he couldn't stay in the parking lot all day. And no number of smokes was going to change the school's mandate on "required courses". Even thinking about it now, he clenched his jaw. English 102. As if any literary nonsense was gonna be useful in his career. For the life of him Tony couldn't wrap his head around why an engineer needed to take a compulsory arts course. But he figured there was a better chance in English Lit to rent the movie instead of reading the material. See? Genius.   
  
Tossing his butt out the window, Tony ran a hand through his glossy, dark hair and got out of the car. He bristled against the cool air and flipped up the hood on his black sweatshirt. Great day to forget your jacket, genius. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and headed for his class.   
  
The room was giant. Tony was used to smaller, more intimate classrooms with other engineers working hands-on with teachers who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty. The vast cavern of at least 300 students and the tidy woman in tweed at the front were too much for Tony. He felt like he'd walked into a movie about stereotypical campus life and he let out an unimpressed snort. Not happening. As soon as he'd made it through the door he turned on his heels to leave, but more students had filtered in and there was a serious bottleneck happening. Tony bumped into at least two other students as he unsuccessfully tried to make a graceful exit before class started. But there was nothing graceful the douchebag in sunglasses trying to abandon a first-day class.

 

There were a few minutes before class started, so Natasha pulled out her earbuds and put them in. They were plugged into her laptop. A quick scroll through her music brought her to her favorite playlist. She smiled when her favorite song played, “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid.” As she checked her watch, the redhead pulled a stylus out of her pocket and brought the laptop screen closer to herself. 

 

There was a bit of artwork she had to do for her Art Class, and a couple of her own little projects. The one she was working on right now was a black and white sketch of a ballerina sitting cross legged with her face cradled in her hands. Short streaks of what was going to be blood trailed down her fingertips down her forearms. 

 

Her head slowly bobbed as she traced the outline on her laptop with her stylus. Without realizing it, she had begun humming underneath her breath. Slowly the classroom begin to fill in front of her. It was one of the perks of sitting in the back. She could see every person in the room. As she looked up, there was one person who seemed very eager  _ not  _ to be there. He caught her eye, and she tilted her head. Suddenly she remembered something. 

 

Grabbing her bag, she dropped it into the seat next to her so that no one could sit near her. It was usual habit for Nat, but this being the first class this semester, she had almost forgotten. And she remembered in barely enough time. The room was almost full. 

 

By the time Tony resigned to the fact that he couldn't, in fact, sneak out of the classroom, it was becoming abundantly clear that it filled up. Fast. Who knew that wasting time smoking in your car could, y'know, not be the best approach. He scanned the room and kissed his teeth. Well, shit. Apparently anyone and their cousin wanted to sit in the back of the lecture hall and the only available seats were right in the front. 

 

Behind his mirrored sunglasses Tony rolled his eyes like a petulant child and flopped down in an empty seat. He'd become all too accustomed to the anonymity afforded him by dark opaque sunglasses. In fact, Tony was rarely seen without them, and today would be no exception. He didn't mind coming off like an asshole, it was one of the most useful defense mechanisms he had. Standoffish enough to keep people at a distance, gregarious enough to keep people entertained. And lord, did it work. 

 

Tony had no intention of doing any work. As soon as he was in his seat he had his phone out. There was a part of him that knew it was rude, but he shrugged to himself. His time was more valuable than some wordy dead guys droning on in iambic pentameter and he was just putting in time. The professor had started to go over the syllabus but Tony was already engrossed in his phone.

 

As soon as class started for Natasha though, the headphones came out and the art went away. Of course today was only the introduction to the class, but syllabi were important. It was good to know how things were graded and how best to pass the class, if that sort of thing mattered to you of course, which to Natasha, it did. The last thing she wanted to do was flunk out and be sent back to Russia. 

 

It also didn’t hurt that Natasha loved reading, writing too. There was something about being able to control a story, to make it her own, a place she could escape to whenever she wanted. It was a world where Nat was in charge, a luxury that in her lifetime, the redhead had never before received. If Natasha had any level of confidence in her writing, she probably would have been a writing major, but she wasn’t, so Art History it was. If she couldn’t create the art on her own, she could at least immerse herself in it. 

 

The professor had sent out the syllabus via email, so she told all the students to follow along if they had printed out their copies like they were asked to. Only a handful of students actually pulled out a hard copy. Natasha didn’t, only it wasn’t for a lack of doing the right thing. It was because hers was already out and on her desk. Predictability was one thing the orphan appreciated about the school. Everything offered some form of schedule and rhythm. In a world where everything had seemed to go wrong for Natasha, stability was nice. 

 

The professor continued to read over the syllabus as Natasha gave a death glare to a student that eyed the desk next to her. She had come in late. She didn’t deserve to sit by Natasha. Even if she had come on time, there was very little chance that Nat would have allowed her to occupy the seat. The short, black haired girl scurried off, her skirt bouncing as she trotted down the stairs towards the front where the last of the seats were. Her eyes followed the girl as she walked, forgetting about the professor for a second as she looked her up and down. She was a very pretty girl. Natasha almost regretted sending her away, but as soon as she was fully gone, it became clear once more why Natasha preferred being alone. Peace and quiet. 

 

There was a certain level of necessary tact associated with spending an entire class on your phone without any repercussions. Unfortunately, tact was not something Tony was especially gifted with.   
  
He was halfway through hacking into the school's administration - if he couldn't charm his way into having this class dropped, he would have to take matters into his own hands. One of the countless perks of having near-unrestricted access to both money and technology was that Tony had rarely had to play by anyone else's rules. Which is why his souped-up cellphone was near-indistinguishable to the floor model he'd picked up from the store. He was fairly certain he could hack the Pentagon from his phone given enough time. Tony squinted at the screen, fingers hovering over the screen and input more commands when suddenly, one of his own fail-safes went off. An obnoxious siren started wailing and all eyes in the classroom were on him.   
  
It didn't matter that he could turn it off in a matter of moments, a single second of that alarm had effectively silenced the classroom. Not that he was particularly skilled at flying under the radar, but now the spotlight was on him and him alone. Head still down, he peered up over his sunglasses at the professor in front of him. She'd been pacing the front of the room as she talked and was now just a few feet from Tony, glaring at him as he stared back. He muttered a half-hearted, "Sorry," and turned his attention back to his phone.   
  
"Mister..." the professor started, clearly fishing for the obnoxious student to finish the sentence for her.   
  
"Stark." Tony replied, not looking up, eyes never moving from his phone. He could feel the students nearest him bristle at the obvious show of disrespect.   
  
"Well, Mr Stark. Despite the fact that I'm not the kind of professor to ban cellphones or police the students in my classes, you clearly need a reminder about classroom etiquette."   
  
"Etiquette?" Tony finally turned his attention back to the prof. "You're kidding me." The unimpressed look plastered on his face was anything but subtle. Tony hadn't bothered to learn to hide his feelings. His face usually said it all, and the mix of indignation and boredom on his features was clear.   
  
"Yes, etiquette," she confirmed, taking a few steps towards him. He straightened his shoulders and pulled his phone closer. There was no way this old bag was going to confiscate his phone. He wasn't a kid anymore and he didn't even want to be in this class in the first place. His phone, and the distraction it provided was the only thing keeping him sane right now. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" She extended a hand in an obvious gesture that indicated Tony should hand over the device.   
  
"Yeah, not gonna happen." Tony grit his teeth and gripped his phone tight. He'd had enough experience with tutors and Nannies growing up. He could win a staring contest if by nothing than sheer stubbornness. He stared her down, unflinching.   
  
"Mr Stark, I assure you that class will not continue until--"   
  
Tony cut her off. "Oh, well then by all means," His mouth had curled into a condescending smirk and he stood, dramatically gesturing to the rest of the front row, "Don't let me stop you." The dark haired man picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder before the teacher could protest. "I've got places to be." He threw his last comment over his shoulder as he strode out of the class. He didn't need to be asked twice.   
  
Tony could hear the teacher protesting as he got to the door. Something about respect and his classmates' time - he'd already tuned her out. But he stopped at the door and flashed her a smile and a wink before he disappeared into the hallway.

 

Every eye had been watching the exchange that was going down at the front of the lecture hall. Nat hadn’t been in school more than a few months in America, but she knew that back at the orphanage, that sort of behavior would not end well for anyone. It most likely meant a skipped meal or even corporal punishment. The redhead had gone extremely quiet at the tension in the room. Her first thoughts were that of what most likely was going to happen to him, so when the only thing that happened was a confiscation of his phone, Natasha was astonished. 

 

All of her shock subsided when the jackass stood and headed towards the door. It was Tony Stark. She hadn’t had any classes with him, but she knew who he was. Even when she was in Russia, she knew of the Stark’s company. It was huge. It was purely ironic that the two got accepted into the same school. It never would have occurred to her that she could ever go to the same school as someone as impressive as Tony. 

 

But as well known as money was his reputation, and boy did he have a big one. 

 

The fact alone that he waited to go to college looked arrogant enough to those who were smart enough to do basic math and realize how old he was. And his parties were infamous among anyone who was anybody. His private Malibu mansion was the spot to be for anyone who wanted confirmation that they had made it big. It was even an honor for most celebrities, and he knew it. That didn’t help his attitude much. 

 

So when Natasha saw that it had been Tony who was arguing with the teacher, it began to make more sense. The girl’s eyes rolled, and she shook her head. This had been the first class she had with him, and honestly it didn’t seem like that class experience would last long if this was the rate he kept going at. 

  
  


By the time Tony had made it back to his car, he was ready to disappear. So much for flying under the radar. His overactive mind was as clever as it was self-defeating. And, as soon as he was alone in the hallway he wanted nothing than to tune out the part of his brain that was insistently telling him that he'd just made his life infinitely more difficult. He made a beeline for the door, the parking lot, his car. Thank god he parked far enough away from the building. He didn't feel like going back to his big empty apartment but he also didn't want to have to see anyone else right now.   
  
The young billionaire had left his impressive Malibu house for a slightly more modest penthouse downtown Manhattan. Still sprawling by New York standards, his apartment, however luxurious, was a cozy alternative to his notorious West coast mansion. Despite having gained a reputation for the parties he threw and the exorbitant lifestyle he maintained, Tony wasn't entirely unhappy to leave it behind for a while. There was a hollow, lonely quality to being socially revered. A whole fuck ton of people interested in being near you, but never actually giving a shit about you. So, being in a building with other people, neighbours, a doorman - there was a sense of normalcy that he would never admit was comforting. Everyone else in his building was also obnoxiously wealthy so his social stature held far less clout than at his school. Usually he was happy to retreat there when he needed to be alone, but not today.   
  
Midday sun reflected off the the glossy hood of Tony's shiny, black '83 Mercedes convertible. It was too cold to put the top down and Tony kicked himself again for forgetting his jacket. Once inside he turned the car on, turned up the heat and then the stereo. He'd retrofitted the vintage ride with it's own computer and, among its other countless features, all of Tony's favourite music. He scrolled to the bottom of the list. W. White Stripes. He turned the volume up high and "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" came through the speakers. Filthy, fuzzy guitar filled the air and Tony reclined his seat all the way, pulling out a joint. He'd always liked listening to an album in its entirety. There may have been things about his slightly frantic personality that would leave someone to believe he couldn't sit still long enough to listen to an full album. But when he was in his workshop, it was the perfect way to get in the zone. He hauled on his joint while the rest of White Blood Cells played out, eyes closed and horizontal in his Benz.

  
  


Finally, class was over. A packed backpack and a quiet thank you to her teacher, and Natasha was out of the room. The image of Tony’s phone on the desk of the teacher flashed in her mind, and she realized what she should do. Nat paused outside of the room and leaned against the wall, waiting for the teacher to leave. 

 

It didn’t take long for the hurried teacher to turn out of the room, closing the door behind her. Any other time, the door would lock immediately upon closing, but Natasha had put a piece of tape over the clasp inside the door frame that keeps the door locked. With the professor gone, Nat had the opportunity to sneak inside. Her fingers grasped the door handle and pulled it open. She crossed the front of the empty lecture hall. The low thud of her black and maroon knock-off Doc Marten boots echoed amongst the empty seats as she reached and took the phone from off of the desk. 

 

The phone turned over in her hand. It was definitely different than most she had seen and was probably the most expensive thing she had ever held in her life. Quickly, Natasha ran out of the classroom and took the tape off the door, allowing it to close. If she was lucky, Professor Hill would come back and see the phone gone, and Tony would get in trouble, not her. 

 

But for now, she figured she’d have some fun. One, two, three steps later. Pulling her headphones back out, she plugged them into his phone to see what kind of music he had in his phone. Anyone with that level of disrespect must have interesting taste. 

 

It didn’t take long for Natasha to realized his phone was encrypted. That was weird. She had seen a few of the algorithms before, but mostly just things she had played around with for fun back when she had been in school. There were a few options for electives. Computer sciences and martial arts had been her choices. In that moment, she was thankful. Her mouth quirked, and she sat under a tree in the middle of campus. It would take her a bit to figure everything out, but soon, she was almost done. A small smile began to appear on her face. 

 

Tony was onto his second album when the volume suddenly dropped and a cool voice came through the car’s speakers. “Hate to interrupt, Sir, but it seems as though someone is trying to unlock your cellphone.” There was a short pause before it continued, “I have preemptively blocked their attempts, but whoever it is seems… persistent.”

 

Eyes still closed, he reached down and patted his jean pockets. “Well shit.” Tony groaned and sat up, bringing his seat back up to vertical. He'd managed to forget about his cell. Though the fact that someone was messing with it enough to warrant Jarvis’ intervention said enough. He grabbed the rear view mirror and turned it towards him, checking out the state of his face. Pulling one of his eyelids down, he sighed. Thank god for sunglasses. On the off chance that he the university staff had his phone, he didn't need his pink eyes incriminating him further after the stunt he pulled in class. 

 

“Okay, J. Who's got it?”  Tony rubbed his forehead and squinted, trying to pull himself out of the sleepy haze of the last hour. 

 

“It appears that your phone is 500 yards from your current location, Southwest towards the centre of campus.” 

 

Frowning, Tony glared at the computer screen on the dash. “What's /there/, Jarvis?? C'mon, help me out here. A building number would be /super/.” 

 

“No building number, Sir. It appears to be a park.” Jarvis’ cool British accent never waivered. Either the AI wasn't programmed to react to Tony’s attitude or else it had gotten used to the young man’s default level of sass.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. Great, a scavenger hunt for the low life trying to break into his phone. He straightened his hoodie and headed in the direction of Jarvis’ instructions. Soon enough he came to the sprawling green space at the centre of campus. He paused at the edge, taking the opportunity to light a cigarette and scan the bodies dotting the treed lawn. It was cool enough that not many people were lazing about, in contrast to campus in the summer that was crawling with people soaking up the sun. Anyone out here was either en route somewhere or dressed appropriately enough to comfortably be outside. A woman with red hair in a dark jacket caught Tony's eye. She was more or less in the middle of the park, seemingly unbothered by the cold as she focused on something in her hands. 

 

Tony wished he had his phone to fidget with, to look slightly less suspicious as he began to approach the redhead. He took long drags on his cigarette. fortunately her head was down and he managed to get close enough before she noticed him. They locked eyes and he stopped walking. “I hate to break it to you, you're not going to win.” Tony nodded towards his phone in her hands and smirked.

 

As soon as she had made eye contact with Tony, she knew her two options were to run or stay put. Running seemed like a good enough idea, especially if she wanted more time with the phone, but Tony didn’t seem like much of a runner. He was used to things being done for him, not having to try so hard. Nat was sure that exerting any amount of energy in chasing her was not something Tony was about to do. 

 

Her eyes moved back to the phone in front of her as she continued to work with it. She mumbled a few Russian curses, angry that he had come so soon and that she hadn’t had enough time to work. Her pride would get the better of her, she knew, so Nat didn’t stop. His eyes were trained on her, and his smirk seemed to be burning holes in the top of her head. “Stop it.” Her Russian accent was still somewhat thick. She didn’t really speak enough for it to be an issue or something she thought she should change. Those two words were the first things she had ever said to him, and she said them without even looking at him. 

 

Natasha opted to just ignore his presence, but it was pretty difficult. She could smell the smoke on him, and he was standing pretty close, for her standards at least. Despite these distractions, her work continued, until finally the screen went white, the sharp letters spelling out “Stark” appeared. The redhead smiled. She had won—until the screen went black once more, red boxes popping up one after another. Angrily, her jaw clenched, and she stared blankly at the phone. The last thing she wanted to do was hand it back to Tony. That would mean she had lost. And Natasha never lost. 

 

Tony watched her body language, half admiring her determination, half still smirking knowing that Jarvis would remotely wipe the phone if she managed to break through anything significant.  

 

When it finally happened, her shoulders shifted and despite not usually being overly perceptive, Tony could feel her energy change. He chuckled silently to himself, she clearly didn't enjoy being bested. The over-confident engineer decided to hold his tongue, his trademark smirk trained on the redhead in front of him. She could admit defeat when she was good and ready. 

 

“Your battery died.” It was all she said as she stood. In her mind, it was a lot more fierce of a stand than it really was. Ideally, she would have met him face to face, but she was a good bit shorter than him, a fact she didn’t realize until she stood inches from him. Natasha thrust the phone into his chest and narrowed her eyes menacingly at him. It was worse, actually having to look at his proud little face. Everything in her wanted to punch him. 

 

The fact that he hadn’t said anything almost made it worse. 

 

“Aw, yeah, I hate when that happens.” Tony's tone was convincingly congenial. He knew he had the upper hand here and didn't need to be a dick about it. Maybe he'd mellowed in the car, maybe he wasn't totally loving this girl’s body language, whatever it was, he didn't bother to correct her. They both knew what was actually happened. 

 

Tony grabbed the phone as she pushed it at him, stepping backwards and off balance. Whoever she was, she wasn't some delicate flower. “But thanks, I guess. You uh, did a half decent job.” He glanced down at the phone. “Hacking in, I mean. You gave my AI a run for his money apparently.” Tony chuckled, he himself being a fan of messing with Jarvis.

 

“It would have been a whole decent job if I had more time.” Natasha’s arms crossed over her chest, and she pulled the earphones out, stuffing them into her jacket pocket after carefully wrapping them up so they wouldn’t get tangled later. Her fingers were itching to take the phone back and to finish the job. She was very much a perfectionist, and the idea that there was something unfinished in need of completion would bother her. 

 

It wasn’t until Tony half-complimented her that she relaxed a tiny bit. At least she had come close. She’d figure it out later. And Tony would never know. Nat drew in a deep breath and looked up at him, right in the eye. “AI?”

 

“Uh, yeah.” A few emotions flashed briefly across Tony’s face, hinting at a more complicated answer. But he quickly resumed his trademark charm, “I built him when I was younger, y'know, kept trying to make him better, more intuitive. Anyways, now he's my eyes and ears. And,” he tossed the phone underhand back to Nat, “if you do manage to succeed, the thing will wipe itself instantly. Have fun.”

 

Tony tossed his cigarette butt on the grass and immediately pulled out a new one, turning immediately and walking away from the redhead with whom he'd abandoned his phone.

 

Nat caught the phone with one hand, turning it back to face her. She didn’t even really care what was on it anymore. She just wanted to prove his smug attitude wrong. She could beat his AI. She just needed time. 

 

As he walked away, she looked up to watch him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “You didn’t give me your name.” He was arrogant enough to assume she knew who he was, and he was right in thinking so, but if she could deliver a blow to his ego, as small as it just being someone not knowing his name, she’d do it. 

 

Tony audibly laughed. He didn't bother turning around and kept walking. This playing daft thing, he didn't buy it for a second. “Yeah ok, Red,” he tossed over his shoulder. He was sure she'd have fun trying to break into his phone and if and when she did, he was sure he'd hear about it. “Have fun with the phone.”

 

Red? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Her jaw clenched as she shoved the phone in her pocket and grabbed her bag, angrily slinging it on her shoulder. She didn’t really know why she was so mad. He just made her.. angry. Under her breath, Natasha mumbled a less than nice Russian curse about Tony and turned to head off to her dorm. 

 

The smug engineer smiled to himself, dragging on his cigarette as he lazily sauntered back to his car. Honestly, he'd had very little intention of stepping foot in that Lit class again, but that redhead may be changing his tune. He wasn't entirely sure what it was. Maybe the fact that she didn't want to give him a single iota of the cloying reverence everyone did put her in some other category? She did seems insistent on breaking into his phone. Tony wondered if there was the possibility she would succeed. Jarvis would keep him posted, but… he finally turned back, curious if she was still there fumbling with his phone. 

 

The wind picked up and whipped at Tony's face as he made his way back to the car. The walk was short, but his hoodie was officially failing at keeping him warm. He blasted the heat as he waited for his Mercedes to warm up and the young engineer hit shuffle on his endless playlist.   
  
An acoustic guitar twanged, and Tony exhaled, instantly more comfortable with some music and a little warm air to combat the chill.   
  
_ "Living it up. I have it all. To pull more women than any two men or a train can haul." _   
  
A small, hollow laugh escaped his mouth and memories of life back in Malibu began to crowd his thoughts. To say he'd left a trail of bodies behind him was an understatement. According to the tabloids, he was a wild child with too much money and not enough accountability. And although that was entirely true, it wasn't the crux of why he behaved the way he did. Anyone who partied like he did was clearly running from something. But that kind of analysis took slightly more nuance than drug store gossip rags bothered to write.   
  
So, his reputation, despite being accurate, certainly wasn't the full picture of Tony Stark. Hell, he'd only run to Malibu to escape the reality of home. Losing someone was always painful, but Tony never had good coping mechanisms and losing his one confidant was too much for him. And people got hurt. His girlfriend, his friends, it would have been easier if no one got invested. If no one tried to save him or fix him. The only person who had been half decent at it was gone. He knew he wasn't fixable, so numbing it had become his go-to solution. So he torpedoed nearly every good thing in his life. Her red hair flashed in his memory, the day she'd caught him and walked out for good. The image of those strawberry blonde locks, only the back of her head, never once turning around to look at the young man who only had himself to blame. And now there was this other redhead. Tony didn't want to admit that the similarity had anything to do with the fact that he was still thinking about their interaction.   
  
" _ She blackens pages like a Russian romantic. Gets down more often than a blow-up doll." _ _   
_   
The music continued, cynical and blunt. It was a salve to Tony's nerves that there were people out there who got it. Who got his brand of cynicism and lack of faith in the world.  Maybe that was it, this girl. She didn't seem like everyone else. Frankly she seemed a little miserable. But Tony was well versed in defense mechanisms and could spot hers from a mile away. He kicked himself for not getting her name. He knew virtually nothing about her except that she'd made a surpringly decent attempt and fucking up his phone. That was more than enough to pique his interest.   
_   
_ _ "I may act like a lunatic, you think I'm fucking crazy you're mistaken. Keep moving." _   
  
He needed another cigarette. He only chain smoked when he was stressed, and he guessed that being without his phone was stressful enough for someone like him. Why did he leave her his phone? It was strangely out if character for him, but he wasn't about to delve into his own subconscious to figure out why. Red hair flashed in his mind again and he shook his head, trying to shake loose the memories. He lit a smoke in an attempt to busy his hands and his mind.   
_   
_ __ "And now my genius can drink in silence, She's got to listen to your tired-ass lies. I know it’s hard to believe a good-hearted woman could have a body that make your daddy cry."   
  
Tony glared at the sleek screen on his dash, the name of the song scrolling across the screen. He'd picked New York to get away from life on the West Coast and here he was still thinking about it. He didn't have to be exactly what everyone expected of him, that's how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. Trying to be the perfect son, he'd sidelined his real desires and ended up as a tornado of erratic, impulsive behaviour, systematically sabotaging himself in the process. He dropped the car into gear, mentally chastising himself for being so emo, and sped off in the direction if his apartment.

 

Natasha ended back up in her dorm room with the phone. It had gotten stuffed back into her backpack on the bike ride back to her hall. The last thing Natasha needed was to try and figure the phone out while she was riding her bike. The redhead had an extremely obsessive personality, making it almost impossible to think of anything else as she rode back to her dorm. 

 

Just ten minutes later, she was situated on her bed with the curtains drawn around her bottom bunk. She had opted for the bottom bunk in her room, installing a few rings around the wooden frame abode her head. This allowed her to run a curtain of fabric around her entire bunk, closing her off from the pressure to socialize with her room mate. Her name was Janet, and she was just a bit too loud for Natasha. 

 

Finally by herself, Natasha pulled out the phone and turned it back on. “Bozhe moi..” In her time away from the screen, she had lost her process and had to start from the beginning. She let out a long groan and pulled her pillow under her arms as she laid on her stomach with the phone in her hands in front of her. “Dammit, Stark..”

  
  
  


The underground parking in his building was a godsend. One of the many perks of Tony's high profile life was the certain level of security afforded to the rich. Not having to deal with New York parking definitely fell into that category. With a nod to the concierge at the front desk, Tony hopped in the elevator and pushed the button that read Penthouse. The mirrored elevator sped silently upward, finally opening directly into Tony's apartment.   
  
In his light wash jeans and old black hoodie, Tony looked slightly out of place in the stunning loft. It was almost overwhelmingly bright - a conscious choice on Tony's part. Despite wanting to forget about Malibu for a while, he couldn't entirely leave it behind. New York in the winter was an ugly, grey place, but the bright light streaming through the gigantic old windows made it feel almost tropical. It was a big part of what attracted Tony to the space. The walls dividing the loft were entirely white with exposed brick walls painted to match. The effect was airy and fresh, despite being an older building. Glossy black accents and dark doorframes were offset against old, original wood floors and exposed ceiling beams.   
  
Tony kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen in search of a drink. He tossed his hoodie on the intricate white marble counters top of the kitchen island, already too warm in the sunny loft. Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge he leaned on the counter and took a generous swig.   
  
The kitchen looked out into the rest of the apartment. There was a bright, open space decorated with dark couches and big, modern lighting. Stairs led up to a mezzanine where Tony had set up his makeshift workshop. Moving his stuff hadn't been easy. The ambitious inventor moved to Manhattan a month before the semester started in order to make sure the apartment was to his standards. It had been a great way to clear his head, having a project to immerse himself in. He still drank too much, but the physical labour was a welcome change of pace. He spent the month installing computers, his own security system and most importantly, Jarvis. Since retrofitting his Malibu house to accommodate the AI, Tony had learned a few things. Now Jarvis was wherever he needed him.   
  
"J, let's get some tunes going. No lyrics, we've got some digging to do." Music instantly came to life with deep, hypnotic house beats that the engineer swore helped him focus. Tony grabbed an extra beer and headed to the couch. Placing his spare beer on the floor beside him, Tony kicked his feet up and stretched out on the couch. He had a few projects that needed his attention, but first he wanted to check in on his old phone.   
  
  


Natasha laid quietly in her bunk as she restarted on the phone. She soon realized it would take a while for her to get any progress on the software. Pulling out her own phone, she pressed shuffle and allowed the first song to play. A hard guitar riff followed by some rough vocals rung out in her dorm room, and Nat was glad that Janet was gone. The cheerleader wasn’t overly fond of Natasha’s music taste. 

 

_ So many stars in the sky, and I don’t know why they’ve always got to fall on me.  _

 

Music had always played a big part in Natasha learning English. The orphanage focused heavily on academics and forced a minimum of two foreign languages to be learned. She had chosen English and French. Eventually, she learned a few more, but she wasn’t as good at them. With all of the pressure to learn, music and movies became the most enjoyable way to learn. Natasha was practically listening to music at all times. The quiet, while she did enjoy being alone, was almost scary for her. 

 

In silence, she had to deal with all of the shit life threw at her. Music offered a distraction. One that she was always grateful for. 

 

_ Maybe I’m blind to all of the signs that the world never wanted me.  _

 

The music wasn’t too loud as she continued to work. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself and draw anyone in from the hallway. She just wanted to work on the phone in peace and quiet. And she knew she had to start now. Based off her lost progress earlier, Nat assumed that if the screen went off, she’d have to start back at the beginning again, and that was something she did not want to do. 

 

“ _ ‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but I’m cold inside. I’ve felt this bad for so long I’m scared I’m fine… _ ’” Natasha absentmindedly began to sing along with the song as she worked, realizing she was making more progress than she had earlier. 


	2. Chapter 2

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into the next morning, her alarm going off at her side. Natasha jumped softly, looking over at her phone which had long since stopped playing music. It was 8 in the morning. Looking forward at the phone in her hand, her fingers continued to move. It was Sunday and that meant no classes. Janet hated her for having an alarm on the weekend since she usually came in hungover. But Natasha didn’t care. She had her usual Sunday morning run.

 

Just because she was no longer in Russia didn’t mean she couldn’t keep up with her usual physique. Running was an easy feat, but her fighting was a different story. There was thankfully a boxing ring in the gym that she could utilize, but it wasn’t the same.

 

Usually by now, Natasha would have been up and out, going for a few mile run, but she was closing in on the program on the phone. She could feel it. “Stop it.” The redhead allowed one single finger to stray from Tony’s phone to turn off her alarm, but it quickly returned to the phone screen as she played around for a bit more. A yawn escaped from her mouth, but suddenly the screen turned black in front of her. Natasha blinked and tilted her head.

 

A singular blue line streaked across the completely black screen, followed by two words

 

_Data erased._

 

She had done it. At first, she was elated, letting out a loud scoff. “Ha!” Natasha bolted out of the bed and clenched her fist around the phone as she jumped up, smiling. To her gratitude, Janet wasn’t in the room. She must have spent the night out. It was probably best. Nat didn’t need anyone to see her joy dance. The smile continued as she looked down at the phone. She had won.

 

Jarvis’ cool voice woke Tony the following morning. The sun was up and he squinted awake, having fallen asleep on the couch. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence around his apartment. The engineer was a notorious nighthawk and often never made it to bed, instead falling asleep in front of the t.v. on one of his “breaks" from a project. Tony very rarely ever chose to go to bed, but that didn't stop sleep from coming for him. Despite feeling invincible, the young man was still painfully human.

 

The previous night hadn't been spent in his workshop, however. Tony had instead immersed himself in trying to find out as much as he could about his nameless redhead. Her accent had been a decent starting point, and he effortlessly hacked into the University’s database to search his class list. Natasha Romanov. With Jarvis’ help, a little more digging got him her legal Russian name and a few newspaper articles about her parents perishing in an accident when she was 12. He’d set Jarvis to investigate the orphanage where she was placed but had ultimately fallen asleep before finding out why more.

 

“Sir?” Jarvis asked, waiting for Tony to slowly rouse before continuing, “You wanted to be alerted if your phone was successfully hacked. I'm afraid to inform you it has been.”

 

That got his attention. Tony groaned, frowning and sitting up. He rubbed at his eyes and pushed his hair away from his forehead. “What?” He'd heard Jarvis just fine, but he was having trouble believing it. “Are you-- of course you are, you wouldnt…” he trailed off as he got up and stretched. It always took him a second to get his bearings when he woke up on the couch, usually because he'd dozed off unintentionally.

 

“Okay fine, where is she?” Tony was heading for the stairs to his workshop. The mezzanine spanned more than half the total square footage of the penthouse and was entirely open to the space below. Despite being tired he took the stairs two at a time and managed to find another cell phone, quickly booting it up with instructions to Jarvis on getting it functioning.

 

“Your phone appears to be inside a dorm room on the campus, Sir.”

 

Tony wasn't a huge fan of phone calls. He much preferred to text, they were easier to ignore. But considering the circumstances, he figured a phone call would deliver the best effect.

 

“J, you wiped the thing before she got all the way in, right?”

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

“Great. Call it, I wanna have a chat her.” Tony looked down at the new cellphone in his hand and watched Jarvis connect the call. He paced as he waited for her to answer.

 

Natasha had properly relaxed from her rejoicing and was well on her way to take a nap, having forgone ang sleep the night before when the phone in her hand began to buzz and play Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man.” That was definitely odd. Apparently the phone was still functioning, just empty. Hesitantly, Nat brought the phone to her ear and answered. “Hello?”

 

“You must be fairly pleased with yourself.” Tony skipped any requisite greeting and got right to the crux of it.

 

“I’d say ‘fairly’ is an accurate statement.” She stifled a yawn and looked out the window of her dorm, instantly paranoid, but not too worried. What was the worst Tony Stark could do? Invite her to one of his parties? “You must be fairly embarrassed with yourself.”

 

“Wow. Embarrassed, eh?” Tony scoffed, this girl was ruthless. “Go for the jugular, why don't you.” He wandered into the kitchen and peered into the fridge for something to eat.

 

“Well I could,” Natasha started, continuing to look out the window, “if you’d actually show your face instead of hiding behind technology like a coward.”

 

Common tact wasn’t something they taught at her orphanage.

 

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but coward feels like it implies I'm scared of you?” The fridge was mostly empty, so he pulled out carton of milk and set to making coffee. “Here I was thinking we were friends and I was just calling to congratulate you.”

 

 _Friends_. Natasha didn’t ever really consider herself to have any friends. She also didn’t really trust Tony, and his tone of sarcasm didn’t exactly help, but she did have to admit the word caught her off guard. For once, she didn’t have a quip ready to throw back at him. Her reflection in the window frowned slightly as she thought. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

 

“And yes. I'm plenty embarrassed, thanks for rubbing it in.” Tony often switched from intense sarcasm to a sort of disconcerting honesty, it kept people fairly off guard and kept expectations low about what to expect from him.

 

She laughed softly and pulled away from the mirror. The phone had to be resituated in her hand. It was much larger than any phone she’d ever had in her lifetime, and it took some getting used to holding. “And like I said, I could rub it in in person.”

 

“You hitting on me?” Tony had the phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he filled the coffee maker with water. “Cause usually people are a little more subtle about it.”

 

“What?” It hadn’t occurred to Natasha that this was exactly what she was doing. So when he asked her, she didn’t quite know what to say. “No. It’s just more satisfying to see the look on your face.”

 

“Yeah, fair. It's a pretty excellent face.” With coffee brewing he hopped up and sat on the counter to wait, smirking to himself.

 

“Aww, thank you.” It wasn’t great, but it was all she could come up with on the fly. She didn’t like it when he had the upper hand. “I didn’t know if you noticed my face. I thought you were too busy glaring at the top of my head through your _sigareta_ smoke to notice what I looked like.”

 

“You know, you're not wrong. I was talking about my face,” Tony laughed to himself. “But seriously, if you managed to get into my phone I don't know what you're doing in an English Lit class, and Art/Dance major/minor whatever. I mean, unless you're a better ballerina than you are a hacker.” He'd done his research, and despite wanting to throw her off guard, his ballerina comment was a full-on guess.

 

Natasha stopped immediately. Her fist clenched reflexively at her side. She didn’t remember telling him any of that. Hell, she didn’t remember ever talking to him in her life other than the day before. There were only a few people in the school that knew about her ballet. It wasn’t exactly something she broadcasted to the school. Anyone could find it out though if they did enough searching, but for that, they’d need a name, but she didn’t give him that. “How.. the hell? Where are you?”

 

The silence on the other end of the phone was palpable and charged in the few seconds before she spoke. Tony smile, very clearly pleased with himself. “Quit looking around, I'm at my apartment. I'm not stalking you.”

 

“You don’t stay..” for a second, it seemed as if she was searching for the right word. She knew the words, it was the college terms she had difficulty with. “On campus?” Natasha let the window shut and quietly slunk back into her dorm to sit on her bed. This whole conversation was making her head spin.

 

“Nah, I've got an apartment.. off campus.” Tony took in his apartment with fresh eyes, it couldn't be farther from a dorm room. He'd seen the inside of a few, but his memory was spotty at best. He poured himself a gigantic mug of coffee and walked to his lofts massive windows, curious about what the weather was like on his day free from classes.

 

“You know, if you stayed on campus, you might actually make it to class on time.” Despite being exhausted, her stomach grumbled. Her body was one big clock. She was very much a creature of habit, and now was breakfast time. Her head turned forlorn to the mostly empty half fridge on the side of the room. She knew she had some blueberry yogurt. It’d most likely become breakfast.

 

“What, and miss the chance to make a big flashy entrance? No way.” Passing off his fuck-ups as deliberate shenanigans was one of Tony's signature moves. Much like the rest of his persona, created to lower everyone's expectations and give him a wide berth for getting into trouble.

 

Peering out the window, Tony managed to burn his mouth on his fresh coffee, making an unimpressed noise. “Ugh, okay. I need a shower and some sustenance. How do feel about breakfast? You’ve still gotta convince me that Art is somehow a better use of your skills than computer science.”

 

Natasha closed her eyes for a second as she contemplated his offer. He had done it. Of course, it wasn’t one of his parties, but he was still inviting her over, doing the ‘worst that he could do.’ Was he a blind reader or something? “Breakfast is fine,” Nat started, “as long as I get back in time for my nap. If I don’t, someone loses an appendage.”

 

“Jeeze, okay. Grandma gets her nap and everyone keeps their limbs. Got it.” Tony began making his way to the washroom, “You know, you're pretty snarky for a ballerina. Aren't you supposed to be all ladylike and… y'know, nice?” Catching his slightly haggard reflection in the mirror he added, “Actually, don't answer that, I've gotta get my shit together. You can tell me at breakfast. Meet me in… an hour? I'll text you the address. Bye.”

 

Tony was already trying to get himself out of his clothes with one hand and it wasn't going well. He fumbled with his phone and dropped it in the empty sink as he ended the call.

 

“Ugh. Jarvis, would you text her the address of that diner on Charles? The one by campus with the pies.” Without waiting for a response, Tony was in the hot shower trying to ease some of the muscles that were protesting his night on the couch.

 

All of that moved way too quickly for Natasha. It wasn’t that she didn’t comprehend what happened, but the fact that she had actually said yes to hanging out with someone. That had never happened before. Quickly, she hopped into the shower and changed. Her appearance wasn’t something she overly stressed about frequently, but then again, she hardly went outside her dorm.

 

A few swipes of light green eye shadow over her eyelids followed by a little bit of black eyeliner eyeliner was all the effort she really put in, but it was leaps and bounds more than usual. Nat picked up her favorite pair of black jeans and a large gray and green varsity jacket that she had laying around. Pulling it on, she got onto her bike and rode it down the hall. It was probably technically against the rules, but she didn’t care.

 

She made her way out of the dorm hall and onto the street where she used her phone and the gps on it to get to the diner where Tony said he’d be.

 

Hot shower, clean clothes, and this time he wasn't forgetting his jacket. Tony ran his fingers and some pommade through his wild, dark hair before heading out the door. He checked his phone's GPS and watched the small blue dot that represented his old phone, now in Natasha’s possession. She was moving faster than someone walking and Tony surmised she must be on a bike. He pulled the collar of his black motorcycle jacket up around his neck and drove towards campus, throwing on Weezer’s Blue Album at full tilt as he wove his way through New York traffic.

 

It didn’t take Nat very long to reach the diner. It had been a place that Janet had tried to get her to go to before, back when they were in the “getting-to-know-one-another” phase of being roommates. She went once, but then quickly realized the two would not get along, or more accurately, she would not get along with the other girl.

 

Eventually, she came to the diner and parked her bike in the little bike racks. Her head turned as she looked for an insanely expensive car. What else would Tony be driving? Seeing none, Natasha turned and walked inside. She had brought only her wallet and both of her phones. Now that she had cracked his, she was probably not giving it back. It wasn’t as if he’d miss it.

 

Natasha had been working a job at a place on campus as a tutor. Her grades weren’t something she usually flaunted, but they really weren’t horrible. It allowed her to make some money since she didn’t exactly have any funds coming her way from Russia. The school was generous enough to pay for her education. She couldn’t expect them to pay for her food too. Thankfully, she had been paid the day before and had some cash to spend.

 

The place was nice enough. It was plenty warm, something Natasha didn’t take for granted. The heating system at her orphanage was minimal, and that was in the freezing tundra that is Russia. As she walked inside, she was greeted by a hostess and a menu and then lead to a table. She didn’t see Tony in the room, so that allowed her to pick her own table. As per usual, she picked the seat furthest from the door, facing the rest of the room to see everyone. She gave a short smile to the hostess and sat down as she waited for the ‘genius’ to come.

 

 

_“When she's away she never leaves the house, I want a girl who laughs for no one else…”_

 

The music from Tony's car blared as he peeled into the parking lot, stopping abruptly as Tony cut the engine. He caught his reflection in the rear view mirror as he dragged on his smoke. He knew it was gauche to smoke a drive but he couldn't care less. He stepped out, and finished his cigarette, adjusting his jacket before waltzing into the diner.

 

He scanned the place and caught the red of Natasha’s hair in the corner. He nodded a familiar hello to the young guy behind the counter and winked before making his way to the table she’s picked. Her head was down, focused on her phone and Tony called to her as he approached, taking a seat opposite her,“Hey Red.”

 

Nat usually didn’t stay absorbed in her phone in public places. It was a pet peeve of hers. As was getting places early, but she was worried that maybe she had gone to the wrong place since Tony still wasn’t there. But then it occurred to her that he was probably not on time to anywhere ever. Some shuffling in front of her caught her attention paired with the nickname that only he had called her. She looked up and immediately put her phone away. It seemed rude to Nat to keep it out when she was with other people. “You’re late.” It was all she said as she picked up the menu and began to look over it. They hadn’t even decided on a time really. She just liked giving him a hard time.

 

“Am I?” Tony peered down at his phone, checking the time. “Maybe you're early.” He shot her a smirk. This girl certainly couldn't take a joke and Tony wasn't sure he'd actually seen her smile. He'd taken it upon himself to try and get her to crack, still to no avail.

 

“No,” she corrected, “ _I_ was on time, so I was in theory late.” Being on time wasn’t good enough for Natasha. She had to be a minimum of thirty minutes early to everywhere, or else she started feeling nervous. “Also, now that everything on this phone is erased,” the redhead picked up his phone and showed it to him, “I’m disabling the GPS. You’re not following me anymore.”

 

“Princess, no one's following you.” Tony leaned forward, trying to peer at whatever she was doing to his phone. He'd planned to let her keep it, but her defensiveness was honestly putting a bad taste in his mouth.  “And just a heads up, maybe tone down this whole defensive hardass act. I mean, unless making zero friends here is your aim.” He'd genuinely intended on having a decent time, picking her brain about how she'd gotten into his phone, where she'd learned, but he was half regretting coming. If he wanted to be berated the had a laundry list of exes, friends and parents who would gladly do that for him.

 

‘Princess’ sounded derogatory to Natasha, and she opened her mouth to quickly correct him, but what he said next changed her mind. She knew she was being hard on him, but in fairness, she was hard on everyone. Nat went quiet and swallowed hard. He had a point. Making zero friends had pretty much been her aim, but that didn’t mean she had to be mean to Tony. He seemed just to be genuinely curious, not seeking any ulterior motives which was what she had mostly been afraid of in her time here at the school. Instead of responding, she simply nodded and handed him her  menu once she had finished looking at it.

 

Tony really hadn't expected that to have resonated with her. Honestly he'd half expected her to get up and walk out. Her silence threw him off a little, he was definitely more used to people tearing a strip out of him than quietly submitting to his nonsense. “Uhh, thanks,” he replied as she passed him the menu. He glanced quickly, already knowing what he wanted to eat. “You know what you want?” He tilted his head, not quite sure what to expect.

 

“Yea, the french toast. Have you been here before?” Despite her usual demeanor, the ballerina was actually an exceptional conversationalist. She knew how to keep things from getting awkward, and inversely, she knew how to amp up tension if need be. While waiting for him, Nat had ordered herself a glass of orange juice, and she took a sip of it when he finally sat.

 

“Sure have, I got back to New York well before the fall semester started and this place helped keep me fed and alive.” Tony looked over his shoulder to get the attention of the guy he'd greeted when he came in. He smiled his bright and genuine when they locked eyes and gave a quick nod to let him know they were ready.

 

“This is Phil. Phil, my new buddy Red.” The stylishly dressed barista gave Natasha a warm smile, ready to take her order. “What can I get you?”

 

“I’ll have the French toast.” She gave the Phil a small smile and nodded as she added, “and a side of bacon.”

 

“Nice,” Tony mused, clearly approving of her bacon plan. “You know me,” he smirked at Phil and passed him the menu. “Anything else to drink, Red? I'm gonna have a Caesar.”

 

Natasha shook her head and just took one of the paper napkins, folding it between her fingers. “Thank you.”

 

Their server walked off without having taken an official order from Tony. During his time in the city he'd made himself a regular at a few places and the diner was definitely one of his regular haunts. He'd dropped in one day after submitting some paperwork at the school before the semester started. Frankly he'd just been interested in getting a beer, but the smell of fresh pie and the eye candy behind the counter had lured him back enough times.

 

“They've got these pies,” Tony leaned in to Natasha after Phil had left with their orders. “You've gotta leave room cause seriously, they're incredible.”

 

“A pie for breakfast?” Her head tilted slightly, and she watched Phil as he left. She wondered if he made the pies. She had no real interest in Phil himself, it was just that, not much unlike Tony, her mind was always running. And as much of a misanthrope as she seemed to be, she found people fascinating. To see how people act, what they do, and how they got to where they were, how past happenings affected their outlooks on life. If she hadn’t been so into art, she probably would have gone into psychology.

 

Her expression slowly faded to that of a complacent one as she once again found herself lost in her thoughts. No one spent enough time with Natasha to realize exactly how much of a daydreamer she was. One thought would lead to another, and she’d be lost.

 

“Hell yeah, pie anytime. I don't really… keep a regular sleep schedule so I mostly eat what and when I want.” Though as soon as the words left his mouth he thought to himself that he most often went without, instead subbing in coffee and booze for actual meals. And takeout. Money could get you just about anything you wanted in New York and Tony took advantage of that more often than most.

 

Tony watched Natasha’s face, this was the second time she'd seemed preoccupied. “You on this planet, Red?” He asked, in reference to the spaced out look on her features.

 

When he called her attention, she looked up. Nat shook her head once and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

 

“Lemme guess, you were up all night working on my phone?” There was a mischievous glint in Tony's eyes.

 

“Something like that..” It was hard to look him in the eye. She didn’t like his facial expressions half the time. Natasha made the mistake of looking up at him though, and immediately she felt a warm blush spread across the back of her neck.

 

Tony was visibly pleased with her answer, a self-satisfied grin spread across his face. She may have gotten into the phone, but he would take whatever solace in the fact that it was clearly hard work. They locked and he waggled his eyebrows at her, “Glad to hear it.”

 

“You’re the worst,” she groaned and looked away from him. Nat had hoped to wipe that proud smirk off his face by cracking into his phone, but it looked to be that she had done the exact opposite.

 

“I mean, I've heard that before.” Tony was unphased. People trying to throw him off his game was a reality he'd come to terms with when he was still young. It came with the territory when you were as precocious as the young genius was.

 

Before he could say any more, Phil was back with their food. He delivered Natasha’s French toast with bacon and brought Tony his Caesar with a burger and salad.

 

“Phil, you're the besssst,” Tony slipped into an obnoxious vocal fry, and the server laughed quietly at his antics. Turning to Natasha, the engineer added, “Can you see why I can't stay away? Great food, and he laughs at my nonsense.”

 

Nat turned and looked at Phil, offering a clearly exaggerated look of sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to deal with his ‘nonsense.’” She smiled to herself for the first time that day and picked up a piece of bacon, biting it. The familiar scent of vodka caught her attention, and she looked at Tony’s drink. “Wait, how old are you?”

 

The cocky billionaire wasn't used to being called out directly. Most people, even if they knew his age, said nothing because of his wealth and perceived connections. So he froze, if only momentarily. The blank, almost deer in headlights look on his face lasted only a millisecond before he assumed his composed smile and retorted confidently, “Old enough.”

 

Now it was her turn to smirk. “You see,” she punctuated with the piece of bacon in her hand pointed in his direction, “if we were in Russia? You’d be allowed to drink, but from what I’ve heard, isn’t the age here 21?” Natasha sat a little taller as if to look into what was in his cup. She paused before reaching for it and taking a long sip. Shrugging one shoulder she set it back down. “Winter grain is better.”

 

“Well guess what?” his tone smacked of self-satisfied and he grabbed back his drink, taking a long, dramatic sip. Tony smacked his lips in delight, “Here in America, I'm allowed to drink.”

 

“Oh, that’s right.” Natasha nodded as she licked her lips subconsciously. “The rules don’t apply to Tony Stark.” She laughed softly and shook her head at his attitude, unaware of his silent challenge to make her smile.

 

Tony kissed his teeth, shaking his head at her surprisingly scathing response. She wasn't wrong, he thought to himself, so it wasn't like he could argue her there.  He picked up his burger and took a big bite. Chewing, he decided to ask, “How old do you think I am, anyways?”

 

Her head tilted for a second as she cut off a piece of her French toast and thought. “19? But..” Natasha paused and swallowed her toast. “Aren’t you a child prodigy or something? Shouldn’t you be twelve? Not that you don’t _act_ like you’re twelve,” she added, smirking softly.

 

“We can go with twelve, if that's your guess. I'm cool with it. And like, incredibly cool for my age.” He was purposely avoiding the real answer to her question, because everyone expected him to be younger. His ridiculous intellect had been pretty widely broadcast and Natasha was right, all things considered he should have been in college by 12.

 

“So, way too young to be drinking.” And with that, she reached back over and took his glass, finishing the contents in one go.

 

Tony watched her, momentarily stunned by the kind of gall that was usually reserved for him. “Okay then,” his eyebrows were sky high and the look on his face was more impressed than he cared to show her, “the whole Russian vodka-fiend stereotype holds up, eh?”

 

She laughed once more, the sound reverberating inside the highball glass. Setting the glass down, she shook her head. “It’s actually considered a sign of disrespect if you pour vodka on the ground.”

 

“Umm, just so we're clear, that vodka was going into my mouth and not on the floor. Didn't know I needed to be so explicit about that.” And with that, Tony turned in his seat and got Phil's attention. He pointed at his now empty glass in Natasha’s hand and held up two fingers, silently requesting two more.

 

Her eyes rolled as she listened to him. Not many people had been able to rival her levels of sass. Usually, it kept most people at bay, unable to tell whether or not she was actually as harsh as she put off. She let out a soft laugh under her breath and just nodded. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a response, but his waving down Phil caught her attention. Her eyebrow raised as she realized what he was doing. “If we get arrested, I’m going to kill you. And I know how.”

 

Tony shot her a knowing look, “You know what, I don't doubt that for a second. But I'm equally positive no one's getting arrested.” He sat back, pleasantly surprised with their sarcastic banter.

 

Eventually, she finished up her breakfast and waited on Phil to bring back their drinks. It suddenly occurred to her what exactly she was doing, just sitting and spending time with someone, because she _chose_ to. It was definitely not her usual way to spend time, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy this.

 

Their drinks arrived moments later, Tony winking at the server as he set down their Caesars. He picked up his, stirring the contents of his glass and held it up to Natasha waiting for her to cheers. “To your successful break-in.”

 

Natasha picked up her glass and smiled. It wasn’t a proud one or a smug one. It was small and sincere. It wasn’t very often that Nat ever received any sort of praise for anything she had done, and it felt good to be recognized. Raising her glass to his, her eyes didn’t quite meet his. As small of an amount of attention as it was, it was still a lot for the girl who had mostly remained invisible her whole life and had worked to keep it that way. “Thank you.”

 

She didn’t really know why she was thanking him. It just seemed right, and it sort of came out. Pulling her drink back, Nat took a sip and set her glass down.

 

“So?” Tony asked, after taking a sip of his drink. He looked at her expectantly. It was no ordinary civilian who could hack his tech, and though her job may not have been the prettiest, the redhead got in, and at the very least should be doing something other than studying old art and dancing.

 

“A needle pulling thread..” She tapped her finger on the glass in front of her and tilted her head. “So what?”

 

The engineer rolled his eyes melodramatically. “Are you really a ballerina?”

 

“Was my Sound of Music reference not convincing enough?” Natasha nodded once. “If you want to limit who I am to one word, then yes, I’m a ballerina.” It wasn’t as bitter a response as just sarcastic. She shrugged her shoulders as she continued. “I started when I was twelve. But, how did you know that?”

 

“To be honest, I didn't. I just guessed. You seemed pretty defensive about it though, so I figured I'd hit the nail on the head.” Her tone hadn't much improved but Tony wasn't entirely surprised. “I mean, I found you were studying Dance, but the ballet thing was a lucky shot in the dark.”

 

“‘I’m not stalking you.’” She mimicked his tone from their phone call earlier and raised an eyebrow. “Anything else about me you ‘found’ that I need to know?” Sadly, a good portion of his life was on display for the world to see, so anything she came up with wouldn’t be very impressive.

 

“That you need to know? Nah, that would give away all my tricks.” Information had always been one of Tony's most valuable tools. With his entire life and legacy available for public consumption, anything he could keep close to his chest became a prized possession. From learning everything he could, trying to know and solve anything that crossed his path, to the very few secrets he was able to keep under wraps, Tony was voracious.

 

Nat’s face slowly deadpanned as she just looked at him. If there was one thing she hated more than being treated like a child, it was feeling vulnerable, especially when it came to her own life. Tony was managing to do both of those in one go. She drew in a short breath and let out a short scoff. “I’d really appreciate if you told me what you found, Tony.”

 

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to hide the self satisfaction that was threatening to spread across his features. “Funny, isn't it?” He took another leisurely drink of his Caesar to draw out the moment. “It’s like, SUPER annoying when someone doesn't just lay all their cards on the table, huh?” Grabbing a piece of celery from his drink he sucked off all the liquid and pointed it at Natasha, gesticulating with it like an old dithering professor. “You've got hidden talents you won't tell me about. I've got.. all this.” He turned the piece of celery on himself and gestured at himself, clearly insinuating that his entire existence was pure excellence.

 

“Well _maybe_ ,” she said a bit harsher than she meant, “if you’d tell me what you already know, I could tell you what you don’t.” Her fingers slowly curled around her glass as she rolled her eyes at his overwhelming arrogance. If her ‘defense mechanisms’ drove people away as much as he claimed they would, his assholery would do a much worse job on him.

 

Tony bristled at her tone and smiled inwardly. Getting the redhead riled up was proving to be easier than he'd thought. And despite feeling just a little bad for enjoying it and purposely pushing her buttons, the engineer was in a mood and didn't seem to be able to turn it off.

 

“Oh sweetheart, I thought you knew about me? I don't need to trade information, I can get whatever I want. This was merely a social call.” The condescending look on his face was practiced and camera ready. He was composed and unflappable, an impenetrable wall of snark that had taken years to perfect.

 

Her grip on the glass tightened, and she stared silently at the table for a minute. “Don’t call me that.” Natasha could feel the hackles slowly raising the more he spoke. She could sense the look on his face, and she did everything in her power not to look up at him.

 

“What? Sweetheart?” Tony eyed the top of her head as she deliberately avoided looking back up at him. “We'll stick with Red then.” He sat back in his chair and sipped his drink, eyes still on her. She had to look up eventually.

 

Her eyes slowly closed as she focused on letting the tension go. Once she trusted that she was calm again, she looked up and let her hold on the glass go. “Red’s fine, Хуй с горы.” Nat smiled softly. Unless he spoke Russian, which she highly doubted, he would have no clue exactly what she had just called him. And even if he did, the chances that he understood the cultural implications of the slur were relatively low.

 

“Great. Excellent. Really glad we've got that settled.”  Tony's tone was too cordial, obviously ignoring what he could only imagine was something truly scathing in Russian. He'd make a point if asking Jarvis exactly what she'd said later, but for the time being he'd pushed Natasha’s buttons enough. Plus, he was sure that not reaching for the bait would ultimately get under her skin even more.

 

“Great.” It was all she said. Taking the napkin in her hand, she leaned back in her seat and began to fold it. For someone who was pretty much always composed, she had a lot of nervous ticks. One included making origami in tense situations without really noticing what she was doing. Her eyes weren’t even on the napkin half the time, but she kept folding anyways.

 

“Well, Red,” Tony began, breaking the bit if tension that hung between them and downing the last of his drink in one go. “This has been exhilarating, but I've got people to do, things to see.” The young billionaire stood, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. He grabbed a hundred dollar bill and slid it under his now empty glass. He nodded to Natasha, still half smirking and turned to leave. He stopped himself and turned back, “Oh, enjoy the phone. Should work fine now.”

 

At his request, Jarvis had rebooted the wiped phone, updating it with the latest software from SI and, of course, Tony's personalized ringtone.

 

Natasha said nothing, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction either from her anger or from her excitement. Instead she sat silently and picked her glass back up, finishing the drink. Only when he was gone did she pull out the phone and begin to play with it. He wasn’t lying. The piece of tech was better than anything she had ever had the privilege of holding, and much more expensive than anything she ever thought she’d be able to have.

 

Tony sauntered back to the parking lot, lighting a cigarette and pulling out his phone as he made it into the crisp air. He sent a text to Phil and winked lewdly as he looked up from the counter to meet Tony's eyes through the diner window. Laughing to himself he leaned against his car and took a few more drags on his smoke. He typed out a text to Natasha’s new phone and got in his Benz, firing up the heat to battle against the winter cold.  

 

-SEE YOU IN CLASS.  -


	3. Chapter 3

The weekend was over, and that meant going back to reality. Her Monday classes were usually Nat’s favorite, comprising of a few major-centric ones. They usually ended up being her easiest, most enjoyable days. What was different however was what she had woken up to that morning. An email had been sent to her from the English Department Head asking for her to be a tutor. Apparently some student had requested one, and her prof thought she was most qualified. It meant some more money, so Nat figured ‘why not?’

She walked across campus to where her English 102 class was. She was to meet the person she was tutoring once the class was over, so she brought all the necessary tools with her. As per usual, Nat situated herself all the way at the back on the far right with her bag in the seat next to her to keep it empty. Pulling her laptop out, she continued to work on the drawing from earlier in silence. 

Tony had arrived on campus with time to spare. He was rarely early, but after last week’s front row debacle, grabbing a decent seat was motivation enough to be on time. By the time he reached the classroom, there were about 15 minutes to spare and students were beginning to filter in. Once in the door he scanned the room and spotted red hair in the farthest corner. He was surprisingly stealthy, blending in with some other students heading up one aisle. He slid his way across the row of seats behind Natasha and dropped his bag on the seat beside her, climbing down from behind and claiming the seat as his own. 

“The seat is taken,” she mumbled without looking up. It should have been obvious enough by the fact that she had put her own bag in the seat, but apparently that wasn’t enough, for soon whatever asshole thought he was funny sat down next to her. “I said-“ Immediately, Natasha stopped when her eyes met his. Of course. “Хуй с горы.”

“Nice to see you too,” Tony beamed obnoxiously at her as he took a tablet out of his backpack. “Though,” he leaned in towards her, lowering his voice suspiciously, “we’re gonna have to have a conversation about your insults. Cause I've gotta believe there's something lost in translation if “penis from the mountain" is the best you can come up with.”

Her eyes rolled. Of course he had gone and figured out what it meant, but as she had assumed, he didn’t understand the full meaning of the insult. “It means that you’re a prick that just randomly appeared. No one knows who you are. You’re a nobody.” She had initially hoped it would be a clear contrast to what he generally thought of himself, someone well known in the public eye, and would be at least somewhat biting in that respect. 

Tony let out a loud laugh, garnering attention from the students seated near them. “Sorry, sorry,” he was still laughing, but visibly trying to rein it in. “Okay that's hilarious, I'll take it.” He didn't know any Russian, but he thought maybe it was about time that changed. That was a euphemism he could get on board with.

Natasha’s expression changed. She definitely wasn’t there for all the students turning and watching the two of them, but to see him sincerely laugh at something she said was a bit odd. It didn’t come across as arrogant, just tickled. She blinked and shook her head, burying herself back in her drawing, pulling her legs up between herself and the desk in front of her with her laptop propped on top of her kneecaps. “I know, I’m hilarious.”

Natasha couldn't be more deadpan, but there was something about this cold Russian thing that genuinely was pretty funny, even if she didn't intend it. Tony leaned in, curious about what she was sketching at. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing- just-“ Quickly, she closed the laptop and moved her head away, uncomfortable with how close he was to her. “Could you mind your own проклятие business for once?” Natasha turned to look at him, expecting him to back away, but he didn’t. Why would he? Tony had nothing to lose. 

“I mean I couuuld." Tony held her gaze when she shot him a look. “But where would the fun be in that??” He looked pointedly at Natasha’s closed laptop and raised his eyebrows.

Natasha sat in silence for a moment, then looked away, slowly and reluctantly opening her laptop. Quickly, she typed in her password and rolled her thumb across the little scanning pad at the bottom of the keyboard. Upon unlocking, her screen showed the almost finished sketch she had been working on for the last week. It was the same black and white one of a ballerina situated, her legs crossed, with her face cradled in her hands. Short streaks of blood and tears trailed down her fingertips to her forearms. Nat said nothing as she shoved her laptop onto Tony’s desk. Instead, she pulled out her headphones and put them in. 

“Hey, aggressive.” Tony made room for the laptop as she pushed it in his direction. By the time he'd had a second to take in the sketch in front if him, Natasha had her headphones in. Tony had half a mind to pull one out and repeat himself, but he knew when he was poking the bear and he was positive invasions on her personal space would have the redhead eating him alive. Instead he stared at her long enough to get her attention and nodded a smile at the screen in front of him.

Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the moment she had given him the laptop. She didn’t know why she had done that. It didn’t make any sense. The only artwork of her own that anyone had seen was just the stuff she did for school. This was her own, and this was personal. She felt sick, anxious, scared of being rejected for something she had created, someone she was. Natasha turned up the music, not wanting to hear what he had to say about her art. Every inch of her was regretting having shown him. There was no real reason for her body to be reacting the way it was, and yet it did. She could feel her right hand begin to shake, and she balled it up, rubbing her mouth as she watched the people file into the classroom. 

He was looking at her. She knew it. But looking back at him seemed like a bad idea. Nat was already on edge, for no real reason other than her own inhibitions. Tony hadn’t done anything wrong, she was just scared. 

If Tony was bad at reading and understanding other people and their baggage, he was especially shit when it came to Natasha. It wasn't that he couldn't tell that something bothered her - on the contrary, it seemed like nearly everything he did bothered her and it was palpable. Where he failed was understanding exactly why (beyond his usually annoying antics) and how to deal with it. He could feel the tension ramp up as soon as she passed him the laptop but, again, couldn't really figure out why. It was good. Like, really good and she certainly shouldn't be feeling apprehensive about what he would think. He thought to himself, it looked fairly personal, knowing now that she legitimately was a ballerina, but past trauma and baggage were second nature to Tony. He couldn't manage to come up with anything useful to say, her headphones were still in, so he waited. He wasn't the most patient and his fingers started to drum as the moment dragged on.

Finally, she reached over and took the laptop from him, her headphones still in. Nat knew she couldn’t keep them in forever. Class was going to start in just a few minutes, but she needed something to ground her. Her shaking hand came up once more to scratch the side of her face, and she let out a long breath through her nose, trying to remain as quiet as possible. She was exhausted, just from this one small surrender to emotion. Nat hardly ever let her feelings fully run their course, but for some reason, she had, and now she remembered why she usually abstained. 

Once she had the laptop in her possession again, she closed it and put it in her bag and took out her headphones. Methodically she rolled them around her phone so they wouldn’t get tangled and set them gently back in her bag. The whole time, she felt her ears, hot and throbbing. She wanted more than anything to know what he thought. A small part of her just needed validation more than anything. Without looking at him, her voice finally broke the silence. 

“Is it good?”

Tony stared at her, thoroughly vexed at her complete inability to look at him. “Uhh, ya it's good.” Where before his tone would usually be laced with snark or condescension, Tony's response was genuinely thrown off. Of course it was good, couldn't she see that? If the last few days were any indication, Natasha was excellent at just about anything she tried her hand at. He knew a thing or two about flaunting one’s talents and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why acknowledging hers cause her so much grief.

She nodded once and relaxed a little in her seat. Her eyes closed for a second as she drew in a deep breath. Natasha felt as if every single eye in the classroom was on her even though they were pretty much all facing the other direction. While being acknowledged by Tony relieved a lot of the pressure she felt inside, the adrenaline was still there, and with every movement of her body, she felt shaking. Natasha hated it. The redhead did her best to smile though, turning her head to face him somewhat, still not quite looking him in the eyes though as she thanked him. “Thanks.”

Had Tony any of the skills to comfort or express some kind of empathy, he would have said something. Anything. Instead he felt her discomfort and was similarly paralyzed. In most any other situation, the script was flipped. The genius’ neuroses could be a minefield of the people in his life, and coupled with his addictions and generally tightly-wound demeanor, it was usually the people who cared about him trying to navigate his own triggers. Tony knew he was damaged goods, he just rarely was faced with another person as walled-up as he was. And when faced with those pressing questions, those concerned looks, he did what he always did. He ran. But there was no running for either him or Natasha as the class filled up entirely, the door at the bottom of the classroom seeming father and father away. Tony sucked in a breath and settled in his seat, bereft of anything useful to say to Natasha. Fortunately, she seemed almost as inept as he was when it came to bedside manner, and the engineer exhaled. An awkward silence might not be so awkward for this stoic Russian with Stark-level defense mechanisms.

Class drug by incredibly slowly. It wasn’t because of the awkward silence or the fact that she didn’t like the class. She did like the class, and the silence didn’t feel so awkward to her. Nat just couldn’t stand the feeling that she couldn’t shake. Feeling vulnerable. 

When it was finally over, she stood and picked up her bag. It didn’t occur to her until then that she still had her tutoring meeting in just under ten minutes. “Shit..” Hurriedly, she picked up the rest of her things and slung her pack on her back. 

Tony was immersed in his phone by the end of class, only half listening to the lecture. When Natasha swore, scrambling to get her things together, Tony was attention was pulled from the device in his hand.

“Hey, whoa, what's the rush, Red? That eager to ditch me, huh?” He peered up at her, not making any moves to help her get by with her bag.

“Usually, yes, I would be, but I have something I have to do, so,” she stood, trying to get by him to go down the aisle, “if you’d please move, that’d be fantastic.”

Tony shifted in his seat so she could get by and responded as if Natasha hadn't just tried to blow him off. “Oh, me? I'm actually meeting up with someone, thanks for asking.”

“Me too,” she smiled, still on a bit of an adrenaline high from earlier. Natasha almost went to make a comment about how he wasn’t the only person with a social life, but she bit her tongue back and just continued to walk. Before she was out of ear shot though, she gave him a soft “bye,” and trotted town the long aisle of stairs to get to the front of the class. 

The classroom slowly emptied as Tony watched Natasha leave amongst the other students. He was in no rush. He had a solid ten minutes to be where he needed to execute his plan. The main campus library was just a few buildings over - just far enough to have a smoke and arrived fashionably a few minutes late. He knew that would irk her.

Maybe he was bored. Maybe being in school with all these regular people was making is brain degrade. He certainly felt like it. Having to feign interest as these wholly unimpressive "teachers" droned on with their pedantic, overly simplistic theories and trains of thought, it was tantamount to torture. Not only did he have to show up and pretend to care, there were lists of readings he'd covered before he even hit puberty. With the exception of his damned arts compulsory. He guessed that's why he's come up with his foolish plan.

Tony didn't exactly need help when it came to the class. If he merely decided to try and apply himself, he was fully capable of digesting the material and getting by with a decent grade, even it if physically pained him to do so. But there was very little that could actually motivate the young scientist to dedicate any of his brain power to what he deemed to be a useless credit.

However, an opportunity to annoy Natasha was proving just motivation enough. Well, enough for him to call up the administration and request a tutor. He'd done the mental gymnastics (and the sleuthing) to figure she sat at the top of her class, and a little more digging proved fruitful when Tony learned tutoring was how she earned her extra cash. Like taking candy from a baby.

He couldn't entirely explain it. As it stood, the redhead seemed entirely unimpressed with his presence and thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of spending any time with him. But then again she'd agreed to breakfast on the weekend and hadn't managed to throw her drink at him. Plus she'd showed him her drawing, which seemed entirely out of character considering how closed off she seemed to be. Maybe it was because he couldn't get a read on her that Tony was eager to subject her to more of his idiocy. Or maybe he hoped that they shared some kind of cynical disillusionment that could spawn a friendship? It didn't sound like him, but nothing since his move to New York had seemed typical for Tony. So there they were.

Backpack slung over his shoulder, Tony stamped out his cigarette butt and pushed through the heavy doors of the library. The building itself was massive, floor after floor of subject specific material and study rooms. The person on the other end of the phone had instructed him to meet his tutor on the 3rd floor where there was plenty of tables and cubicles ideal for group work. He made his way up and kept an eye out for Natasha, sure to scan the corners of the room where she usually situated herself.

Predictable as always. Natasha was sat at a table in the back corner by a column and a wall. Her laptop was out on the desk along with some books. The look on her face showed she was clearly less than impressed with the timing of her pupil. While she waited, she pulled out her stylus and began to continue her drawing. When she had showed Tony, it was almost done. She just needed to perfect some more shading, and then she’d be done. 

There she was, posted up at a desk near the perimeter of the Library, head down in her laptop. Tony wondered if she was working on her sketch again or preparing for whoever was about to be tutored. He managed to approach her unannounced, and pointedly cleared his throat when she didn't immediately notice his presence.

“You’re la-“ Her voice cut off immediately as she looked up and made eye contact with him. Reaching forward, she closed the laptop softly. “Tony, I have an appointment. You can’t hang around here.”

“Ooh can't I??” He answered in an obnoxiously sing-songy voice. “I thought you could do pretty much whatever you wanted if you had enough money.” His smirk was obsequious and cloying, clearly baiting the redhead for a retort.

“Well, maybe you can, but this is how I get my money, and unless you need a tutor, there are plenty of us, you need to go.” Natasha sighed and checked her watch to see what time it was. She decided she’d give this person five more minutes before she left. 

Before Natasha had even finished her sentence, Tony had slung his backpack off his shoulders and onto the table opposite her. He flopped down in one of the free chairs at her table with his trademark, smug grin plastered on his face. “Well, I'm glad you're taking it seriously. Cause I'm ready to learn.”

Natasha let out an exasperated sigh and hiked her foot up under the table and rested it on the seat of the chair between his legs. With all the considerable strength in her, she kicked the seat back, pushing him away from the table. “I’m serious, Tony, about my job. You need to go.”

Tony flinched as her foot pressed against the chair, dangerously close to his groin. He shot Natasha a defiant look, but before he knew it he was being pushed backwards. “Hey!” He got his balance and re-adjusted in his chair, pulling the seat back to the table, “I'm serious too. Now let's get to work.” He tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of his mouth quirked, incriminating him.

Her eyes slowly narrowed as she realized what was going on. “No.” She shook her head and began to pack up her stuff. “No, I’m not doing this.”

“Oh come ON!” Tony hadn't expected her to throw a fit this quickly. “Don't be a drama queen,” he chided her as she tried to gather her things.

Natasha clenched her jaw and just looked at him. Was he just this bored that he felt the need to follow her everywhere? She sucked in a short breath, pulling some of the hair out of her face. “Fine, What is it you need help with?”

“Honestly? Everything under the sun when it comes to not-science, but y'know what…” Tony pushed his chair back from the table and stood, grabbing his backpack. “Don't even worry about it. This was a terrible idea, youvr got better shit to do. I'll get someone else to tutor me, or better yet, I'll just drop it. Forget about it.” Tony turned to leave, shaking his head. He couldn't tell if he was mad at himself or just disappointed with Natasha’s reaction. Whatever it was he was mentally kicking himself. What was his problem these days? He needed a drink. And he needed to get off campus.

“No, Tony-“ Her sentence was cut off by a loud sigh, and she shook her head. “I’ll help you if you really need help. I just…” the redhead’s voice trailed off for a second as she lowered her voice. “I just really need this job. And I need you to not get me fired.” 

The truth was that Natasha wasn’t doing well. Between the fact that she came to America with literally no money and the fact that she had no friends or family to provide anything for her, she was drowning. Tutoring gave her a little money, but most of it went to the food plan she was forced to buy for school. That didn’t cover basic necessities and clothing and school supplies. What clothes she had from Russia she brought, and the laptop she used she was still paying off. It wasn’t much, but neither was her paycheck. 

A part of her figured that this might be part of why she hated him so much. But she hated to think that her anger was that misplaced, so she chose to just ignore it or chalk it up to his assholery. “I wouldn’t mind helping you.”

Tony stopped in his tracks, back still turned to her as she spoke. He rolled his eyes at no one, and chewed his lip as he considered her change of heart. “Nah, Red. It's fine. I won't get you fired.” He figured he could just tell the school he was dropping the class despite Natasha being a solid tutor. He didn't want to mess with her life, he'd just... He shook his head. Looking back over his shoulder he shot her a “See you around,” and headed for the exit.

Natasha sat there quietly as he left and rubbed her face. With the change into the new semester, she had lost practically all her students. Most of her revenue came around finals, and those were over. Groaning softly, she pulled up a pdf on her laptop of a flyer she used every once in a while with her contact info on it, advertising for tutoring. Thankfully the library had a printer, so printing off a few copies wasn’t hard. 

Once she had gotten them all, she stuffed them in her bag and hopped back on her bike to put the flyers up across campus. Her evening had been dedicated to her new client, but now that that was over, she had time to advertise. It took a while for her to finish, finally stapling the last one after dinner. Her stomach grumbled to remind her what time it was. In her mind, she counted. She had five more meals left for the week. Natasha planted both feet on the ground on opposite sides of the bike as she thought. Cafeteria? Or save it? She figured she should save the meal. 

She headed back to her dorm room on her bike, wondering if maybe Janet would bring some dessert home from that diner she worked at. As much as Nat hated her, she usually bright home some food that she at least shared a little of. 

The late afternoon air was crisp but not terrible, and Tony found himself wandering campus. Despite feeling frustrated, cagey and a little desperate for a drink, he left the Library and didn't head straight for his car. Instead he wandered, chain smoking and caught up in his own thoughts. He pulled out his cellphone and stared. Texting Natasha was a no-go, he'd just walked out on her and figured he should probably just let that die. She was clearly beyond uninterested in seeing him around and as a Stark, his pride wasn't going to let him put himself out there anymore. It was a shame, really. Tony had left Malibu behind and consequently the large majority of his friends. Or whatever ones he had left. He scrolled through names, feeling more alone with every name he saw, convincing himself that no one would really relish a random call from him. So he lit smoke after smoke until he'd all but killed the pack in his pocket and finally made his way back to his car. There was a fridge full of beer at home calling his name.

Natasha sat quietly in her bunk as she waited for the next morning. It was only 8:30, but this was how she spent most of her nights. There were no friends calling her out late at night. She had made sure of that. And her job was pretty much bombing right about now. She wouldn’t ever ask anyone for charity. The fact that her schooling was being paid for was charity enough. Even though it seemed like she loved isolation, she hated being alone. She’d been alone her whole life, but alone protected her. It was a vicious cycle, really. People let her down and people hurt her, so she stopped them from ever hurting her again, by really just hurting herself and pushing everyone away. 

This was why she hated being alone. Her thoughts would run wild, and she’d realize just how totally she had screwed up. Nat had been at Shield University half of a year, and yet she had not made one friend. Suddenly, she frowned and closed her eyes. She missed home. Even if Russia had nothing to offer her anymore, she still had the memories. She could feel her chest slowly expand and groan as if she was carrying something way too heavy. Her head shook as tears came to her eyes. 

She needed to hit something. Quickly the redhead stood and put on a sports bra and some workout shorts. Pulling her hair back, she got on her bike and headed towards the school gym. 

Lighting his last smoke, the engine in Tony's Benz turned over and he made his way home through the dark streets. Music blared and a thick English accent chastised him from the speakers. 

Well you cured my January blues,yeah you made it all alright. I got a feeling I might have lit the very fuse that you were trying not to light.

It was too early in the evening for a booty call, but that didn't stop Tony from trying. A few well-placed texts but no one took the bait. Tony was well on his way to miserable and needed some kind of outlet. Typically he would head out to one of his usual haunts and get black-out drunk. Find someone to take home or pick a fight with the paparazzi. He passed by Natasha’s name in his phone and sighed. If anyone was going to be wholly unimpressed with his antics it would be the Russian. Hell, Tony was pretty sure she would be unimpressed with his best behaviour. 

You were a stranger in my phonebook I was acting like I knew, 'cause I had nothing to lose. When the winter's in full swing and your dreams just aren't coming true. Ain't it funny what you'll do?

Pulling into the parking garage Tony dragged himself upstairs and directly into the fridge. Jarvis had long given up on trying to keep fresh food in the house as Tony was rarely, if ever, inclined to cook for himself. But there was always cold beer. Cracking one, the cold carbonation was a salve to his nerve. He sucked back the bottle like his life depended on it and immediately grabbed a second, welcoming the warm glow building in his chest and giving fewer fucks as the minutes dragged by.

Natasha sucked air through her teeth sharply as her wrapped hands hit the punching bag. Every so often, her feet would come up to kick the side of it, or she’d knee it, causing it to move a little. With every hit, all of the feelings from earlier became magnified. Every feeling of embarrassment, every ounce of anger, every iota of loneliness, it all came flooding back. 

She felt bad. Maybe she shouldn’t have ran Tony off like that. They had both had a good enough time. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Instead of thinking on it too hard, her pride told her to ignore it. She should have been paying more attention though because without paying attention, Natasha sent a punch sideways at the bag and caught it at a bad angle, and a white hot pain shot up her arm. 

“AH!” She grabbed her arm and pulled it close. Her vision started to close in, the edges of her sight turning black as the searing pain paralyzed her arm. If she wasn’t crying earlier, she certainly was on her way now. The corners of her eyes started stinging, and she held her arm close. Slowly, she sunk to the ground, catching the attention of another one of the students there. 

Steve rushed over and wrapped his arm around her, holding her up. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fan-fucking-tastic.” She answered him through gritted teeth to which he responded with a short shrug as if acknowledging that he deserved that. 

“I’m going to get you to the doctor’s office, okay?” 

“Mmm.. no, I’ll-I’ll be fine-“ Natasha tried to stop him. Not only did she hate the doctor’s, but the last thing she needed was a medical bill. Steve wouldn’t have it though. As soon as she tried to pull away, he held her fast, practically dragging her to the office. 

She didn’t really manage to keep good track of time. The pain did that to her, but the next thing she knew, she woke up with a soft cast on her arm and with the nurse next to her on Natasha’s phone. “What…” the redhead groaned and narrowed her eyes at the nurse. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We’ve called the most recent number in your phone and notified them of your injuries. You didn’t have an ICE when you passed out.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she tried to figure out who that’d be, but just as she did, her fist clenched reflexively, causing more pain to shoot up her arm, and the redhead passed out once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone so long! The friend I was writing this hasn't updated in a few months. Nothing bad happened! We both just got very busy, but I decided I wanna finish this, so here's the last chapter we never posted. Will be posting new chapters soon! Thank you for sticking with. :)

A persistent buzz from his cellphone brought Tony back to real life. He was 4 beers in and had set up shop on the mezzanine, tooling around on Jarvis’ programming while he drank, guitar riffs reverberating around the penthouse. His head was swimming, but that was the aim. Focus on something, numb everything else. 

 

When he finally noticed the phone slowly vibrating towards the edge of the work bench, he picked it up without thinking, listening to see who was on the other end of the phone.

 

“Uhh, hello. To whom am I speaking?” the voice on the other end of the phone was professional and curt.

 

“To whom are you speaking?? Are you kidding?” Tony’s social filter was all but gone in his current state and tact was woefully out of reach. Plus, the odds of someone calling him without an agenda were beyond rare. “This is Tony Stark, to whom am /I/ speaking???” The engineers tone was incredulous and a little insulted.

 

The smooth voice on the other end explained the situation - that he had been the most recently call on Natasha’s phone when she'd been escorted to the clinic with minor injuries. Tony squinted, hard. He screwed up his face trying to wrap his head around what was going on. The alcohol was gumming up the works and he concentrated hard, a frown etched into his brow as he took in what had happened.

 

“So, like, you need me to come there??” It was not his most eloquent, but they certainly hadn't caught him at his best. He looked down at his filthy stained work shirt - a tattered Zeppelin t-shirt, stained with oil and grease from hours building robot prototypes.

 

Natasha was made to stay stationary in the bed until someone came to release her. They said that she was going to be unable to ride her bike while on the pain medicine, so she’d have to wait for Tony. Without asking, she reached forward and upped the dosage by pressing the little button. She was gonna need a lot of this stuff to deal with Tony. 

 

Tony finally hung up the phone and rubbed his face. He needed to sober up, and fast. He hopped down the the main floor of his loft and scanned the room. He looked like hell, but he didn't have time for a shower. He splashed some water on his face and pulled on a pair of black jeans. His car keys were still in the kitchen where he'd left them, but as he picked them up he thought better. Not that he was perfect, he'd driven whole intoxicated more times than he'd readily admit, but driving to a hospital half in the bag - that was publicity the young billionaire surely didn't need. 

 

He dropped the keys and had Jarvis call him a car, meeting the driver out front of his building before heading back towards campus.

 

“I'm looking for Romanov?” Tony announced as he waltzed into the clinic, smelling of booze and cologne he'd hope would mask many ails. Leaning on the counter with one elbow, he flashed his signature grin at the nurse behind the desk and scanned the room for any sign of Natasha. They directed him to her room after signing him in. 

 

“Oh hey, sunshine,” he crooned, poking his head in the door.

 

Natasha groaned softly and tilted her head up to look at him. The room was swimming, but it wasn’t because of the pain. Seeing Tony, she slumped back into the bed, feeling surprisingly comforted by his presence. “You’re sunshine.”

 

“Well shoot me down, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.” Tony made his way into the room and saw her glassy eyes, and then the IV hooked up to her and understood. 

 

“You're high as a kite, aren't you? Is that why they needed me to come here??”

 

She gave him a small smile when he walked closer. Unlike earlier, everything just felt… good. Her worries were the last thing on her mind, and she was happy. Tony was here. “Can you take me home?”

 

“You mean like, to your dorm?” Tony shook his head, trying to focus his eyes, “Uhh, I guess. But your nurse told me you're all weird on pain meds and need someone babysitting you for at least 12 hours.” He thought about the dorms he'd seen, roommates, tight quarters and bunk beds. He grimaced, “I guess we're going to my place.”

 

“Do you have food?” The question came out faster than she could stop it, and she closed her eyes reaching up with her fingers to play with her lips. She really wasn’t hungry anymore, but she remembered being hungry earlier and figured she might get something to eat later. 

 

Tony laughed at her apparent non sequitur. “Yeah sure, boss. We've got whatever you want.” He'd almost forgotten that he hadn't really eaten either. That was his favourite part of booze, that it filled his belly when he didn't particularly feel like eating. Though, at the mention of food Tony could feel his stomach agree.

 

“You free to leave, Red? Time to order some takeout?” Tony scanned the room, peering towards the door for a nurse. 

 

Natasha nodded, eager to leave. In her mind, she thought that if she left before she could get the bill, she was out free. So as quickly as possible, she swung her feet off the bed and tried to stand, immediately realizing how bad an idea that was when she couldn’t quite feel her feet. “Mmm.. that’s funny..” Natasha blinked and grabbed for the bed to hold herself up. 

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Tony rushed forward to steady Nat as she wobbled and grabbed the bed for balance. “You just,” he grabbed hold of her shoulders and sat her back on the hospital bed, “You chill here for a second. I'm gonna go grab a nurse.” 

 

Leaving her momentarily, Tony poked his head into the hallway and got the attention of a nurse, requesting a little help with Nat and an a-ok that she could leave. Once she was in the room taking care of her patient, Tony took the opportunity to sneak to the front desk. He didn't know a whole lot about her, but he knew from whence she came and that settling a medical bill in the US would throw a wrench in what he assumed were already tight funds. He managed to pay her bills before a nurse wheeled her down the hallway, instructing the nurse at the front desk that any future bills would be paid by the Stark family.

 

Natasha sat on the bed and stared down at the wrapping on her hand. It had been a long time since she had injured herself. She blinked a few times before a nurse came in and helped her into a chair. Before she knew it, she was out in the hall with Tony once more. The redhead went quiet for a bit, suddenly becoming interested in all of the people in the room. Her eyes never settled for a minute as she studied each of them. 

 

“Hey, space cadet.” Tony tried to bring Natasha back to the real world. Some combination of the drugs and flurry of people in the waiting room had her looking like she was on another planet. “Time to go, our car is here.” Still a little wonky from the booze, Tony steadied himself on Nat's wheelchair. He flashed a million dollar smile to the nurse who discharged them and pushed the redhead towards the door.

 

Getting the doped up, still-stubborn Russian into the car was slightly less graceful than their roll to the parking lot. Natasha’s dead weight and loopy laissez-faire made the task all that much harder, compounded with Tony's current lack of coordination. Sinking into the backseat of the towncar felt like sinking into a warm bath and Tony let Natasha lean against him, both of them feeling heavy and exhausted. 

 

Tony pulled out his headphones and popped one in Nat's ear, the other for himself. He didn't feel compelled to make too much conversation and it seemed easier than trying to get the driver to pick something half decent. 

A simple drum beat started pulsing, followed by a bluesy riff, repeating hypnotically.

 

_ Have you got color in your cheeks? Do you ever get that feelin' that you can't shift the tide. _

 

Trying to scroll through his phone, the screen proved too hard to focus on. Tony squinted, frustrated, giving up and resting his head on the back of his seat. _   
_ _   
_ __ Ah, there's some aces up your sleeve. Have you no idea that you're in deep, I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.

_   
_ _ How many secrets can you keep? _

 

Natasha’s weight was oddly comforting, warm and solid against him in contrast to the cool leather seats in the back of the Lincoln. Tony shifted, looking down at her, fairly certain she was already asleep.

_   
_ _ 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, when I play it on repeat, until I fall asleep. _

_   
_ _ Spilling drinks on my settee (Do I wanna know?) _ _   
_ _ If this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) _ _   
_ _ Was sorta hoping that you'd stay (Baby we both know) _ _   
_ __ That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day.

 

_ Crawlin' back to you _ __   
  


_ Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? Cause I always do. Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I've thought it through, crawling back to you. _

 

His eyes slowly shut, accepting the cozy darkness of the backseat. The movement of the car through the city streets, warm air circulating around the car and the subtle rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she let her weight rest on Tony beside her.

 

Natasha didn’t remember falling asleep, but she did remember waking up, vaguely. There was the smell of alcohol and of Tony. Before last night, she wouldn’t have really noticed the fact that he had a smell. She had never gotten that close, but once she did, it was unmistakable. There was cigarette smoke, music and warmth—the kind of warmth she hadn’t remembered feeling in ages. It was back to a time when she still had her parents, had someone to take care of her. 

 

At some point, she had fallen back asleep on Tony because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in a way bigger bed than her dorm one. Nat took in a deep breath and rubbed her face. “The hell…?”

 

Natasha had indeed fallen asleep in the car, and the trip up the elevator had been even less graceful than their walk to the car. By the time Tony had to rouse her from the back seat of the towncar, her pain meds had fully kicked in and she'd gone from loopy to barely awake. One arm slung over his shoulder and a little help from the concierge at the front desk and Tony managed to get her upstairs. 

 

He'd figured a movie on the couch was a safe bet, but before he could settle on something to watch, Nat was already dozing off again. The drive had sobered him enough, managing to pick her up from the couch and carry her small frame to his bedroom. He had a spare, but since moving in 6 months earlier, he'd only really used to for storage. Instead of trying to find sheets and pillows, he opted to put her to bed in his room and took the couch for himself. 

 

The sun was just coming up and Tony was still fast asleep, another few empties on the floor beside the sofa - remnants of the rest of his night after Natasha had passed out in the other room.

 

It slowly hit her that she had the soft cast on her arm, and then the pain. Natasha groaned softly as it all began to come back. When it finally occurred to her where she was, she paused. Had he really taken her to his place? It was definitely nice enough. She wasn’t doubting that it was in fact his. It was just an odd display of care on his behalf she thought. 

 

Usually, she would have gotten up to look around, but the last thing she wanted was to be caught looking through his things. Plus, her head still felt a little heavy from the night before. So instead, she cradled her hand in her lap and laid there in silence. It was by far the most comfortable bed she had ever been in, and she didn’t really want to leave it. “Wow..”

 

Tony groaned himself, hand immediately going to his head, as if rubbing it was going to make his hangover go away. He didn't feel entirely terrible, but the beers he'd put away the night before certainly were making themselves known. He groaned and squinted at the early morning light peeking through the big windows. It was far too early to be awake. But despite being used to waking up on the couch, he started replaying the events of the previous night to piece together the end of his night. That's when he remembered. Nat was in his room, likely still unconscious. He had half a mind to go check on her, but he wasn't entirely sure how she would take to being disturbed by Tony, considering she wasn't always thrilled by his presence.

 

With her good hand, she reached for the phone which was on the nightstand next to her. All she sent was a short and simple text. 

 

-You up?-

 

A sharp buzz cut through the morning stillness, hollow and harsh on the glass table beside Tony’s head. He reached over his to blindly feel for his phone. She was awake. He strained to focus his eyes on the screen, hesitating momentarily on a reply.

 

“Jarvis,” he croaked, throat rough from yesterday's chain smoking. “Can we get some breakfast up in here?” 

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

Tony typed out a response and closed his eyes, cellphone resting on his chest.

 

-Sadly. This hour of morning and I aren't friends. -

 

Natasha slowly sat up at his response. He was up, so that was the okay in her mind to go exploring. But she reeeeally didn’t want to leave the bed. Instead, she laid back down and pulled the covers up over herself. With her good arm, Nat wrapped the blanket around herself tightly. The dorms weren’t known for their comfort, but neither were the orphanages. Sleeping in wasn’t something Nat did very easily. She was very much a creature of habit, and part of that was waking up every morning at the same time. But she did like lounging around. It was a known by-product of not really doing much. She’d spend hours sometimes in bed just thinking. Natasha found that there she could mind wander without bothering anyone.

 

The phone was still in her hand though as she stared at his text. She didn’t quite know how to respond to him. She needed to thank him. But that probably wasn’t best done over text, and yet she didn’t really know how to do it properly.

 

-Drunk? -

 

-Recovering. Breakfast? -

 

Tony hadn't made any moves towards getting vertical either. He usually wasn't awake for another few hours. He'd organized his schedule at school to accommodate his sleeping habits and didn't have a single class before 11am.

 

-If you’re hungry, sure. -

 

The last thing Natasha wanted to do was make Tony uncomfortable after he had helped her. So if he wanted to stay in bed all day, she wasn’t gonna stop him. This was his call. 

 

Tony laughed quietly before yelling into the other room, “It’s already on its way!”

 

He swung his legs off the couch, assessing his current state as he sat up. Pushing himself off the couch and onto his feet, he headed toward his room. He leaned against the door frame and poked his head in to check on Natasha.

 

Hearing Tony, she took in a deep breath and stretched in bed. Her good hand rubbed her eyes as she slowly realized she was wearing his clothes. It made sense she guessed. When he picked her up, all she would have had on was the sports bra and shorts. It didn’t take her long to make sure they were still on too. She just had some other more comfortable clothes on over them. When his head popped around the corner, Natasha blinked. “Good morning.”

 

“Oh good, you're still alive,” Tony cracked a smile, genuinely glad to see her looking rested and seemingly lucid. “How's the arm? I've got some more pain meds for you, plus I got Jarvis to order in some breakfast.” Despite having recently woken up, he was already talking a mile a minute, classic Stark. Especially when he had his ducks in a row. And even though he may have been a little worse for wear when he was called to the clinic, he was fairly pleased with himself for managing to get Nat home, prescriptions filled and put to bed. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure the last time he'd been on this end of picking up the pieces of someone who was otherwise incapable in the moment. 

 

“Woah..” Usually Nat was good at keeping up, but that word vomit was unexpected. She didn’t really know why though. To expect Tony  _ not  _ to talk would be surprising—not the other way around. “Who’s.. Jarvis?” Her head tilted as she slowly sat up. Suddenly she felt bad hogging his bed while he stood there. “The arm’s fine.”

 

“He's my AI. Kinda keeps my life together for me… and orders breakfast.” Tony's mouth curled into a sly grin, knowing Jarvis, were he human, would bristle at being referred to as the engineer’s nursemaid.

 

“And made sure Mr. Stark was kept up to date of your progress on his phone.” He may not be human, but Jarvis had clearly inherited his creator’s snark. His cool British accent was completely deadpan, yet somehow simultaneously dripping with sass. Far subtler than Tony, but still irritating like the man.

 

Natasha suddenly smiled. Tony had been worried about her cracking his phone, enough to have the AI updating him of her progress. She let out a soft laugh and rubbed her face, trying once more to make sure none of this was a dream. Tony had the same biting sarcasm as ever, but he seemed strangely eager to be helping. She didn’t really mind. It had been ages since someone else actually took care of her, and she had forgotten how it felt, until suddenly it dawned on her.

 

The medical bill. She didn’t pay. 

 

Her face turned a shade of white that could only be described in comparison to her usual pallor. No one would think she could have gotten any whiter, but she did. Immediately the redhead closed her eyes and groaned uneasily. 

 

In true fashion, Tony's face betrayed nothing, and the confusion and slight panic in his eyes at the sight of Natasha’s pale face was obvious. 

 

“Whoa, uhh, is everything okay?” Tony stepped away from the door and into the room but stopped when he realized he didn't have a follow through plan. Comforting someone was relatively unknown territory and he felt ill equipped.

 

“No, no, it’s.. it’s nothing. Did they give me my.. you call them medical bills?” Her voice shook ever so slightly as she spoke. The thought of having run off without paying, and of having more things to pay, it made her feel uneasy at best. 

 

Tony tried his best poker face, he'd had enough practice thinking on his feet to half-ass a somewhat believable lie. “Oh, ya, you're insured through the school, so there wasn't anything out of pocket.”

 

She paused. None of that really made any sense to her. “I’m insured? How? I didn’t pay for that. Do I have to pay for that?” Her expression didn’t really change, instead she just sat glued to watching his face for answers. 

 

Oh great, more lies. “Yeah, pretty sure. It's part of your tuition, I think.” As he made up his answer the words didn't sound entirely unbelievable. And it was true, he wasn't entirely sure but that's because he'd never had to go through those channels before. “I mean, I don't know how you plebs do things, but I'm sure Jarvis can explain it to you if you're so inclined.” Tony paused, “After breakfast, that is.”

 

“All right.” It seemed a bit generous on the part of the school that was already paying for her tuition, but she didn’t mind, nor was she going to question it. Nodding once, she pushed herself carefully out of bed and pulled her hair back with one hand. “Thank you..”

 

Watching the one handed maneuvers Natasha was attempting, Tony cocked his head, trying to assess how he could help, still feeling pretty out of his depths as some kind of caregiver. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the front desk buzzer reverberating through his open loft followed immediately by Jarvis’ announcement.

 

“Sir, it seems breakfast has arrived. Shall I let them up?” 

 

Tony's eyes lit up. Food. He hasn't bothered to ask Jarvis what he'd ordered, the AI had all of Tony's regular haunts and previous orders on file. Plus, there was a guest there, and J was nothing if not a consummate pro when it came to entertaining to Tony's style. 

 

“Hold that thought,” Tony blurted out at Natasha, holding out one finger as he turned on his heels and went to answer the elevator doors.

 

Natasha froze in place standing next to his bed. Even though it was early in the morning, and he was possibly hungover, he was still moving at one hundred miles an hour. She let out a short breath and just sat down on the edge of the bed. Even though she was not in a whole bunch of pain anymore, her body was still exhausted from the night before, and she didn’t feel like standing. 

 

Adrenaline was a hell of a drug and once he was up and somewhat functioning, Tony's usual high octane frenetic energy took over, despite feeling like he's slightly pickled himself the night before. He paid the delivery guy with a generous tip and started unpacking the food in the kitchen, breathing deeply as the smell of brunch and fried potatoes wafted through the apartment. Thank god for Jarvis, he knew the young billionaire so well.

 

Tony popped a piece of bacon in his mouth and poured two glasses of orange juice, bringing one back to the bedroom. He picked up her bottle of pain killers and presented them both to her as she sat on the bed.

 

“Ambrosia?” He asked, holding the glass up for Natasha to see. “It'll help wash these down.”

 

As he sat next to her, she turned to look at him, eyeing the bottle of pills in her hand. The whole situation seemed off. The fact that he was taking care of her alone seemed uncharacteristic of the well-branded narcissist, and yet he was here for her. Nat reached forward and took the pills from him, downing them without the orange juice, but quickly taking the orange juice and drinking some. He was being incredibly nice, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him think she didn’t appreciate it. 

 

It quickly dawned on the redhead how amazing the apartment was beginning to smell. “Oh my god, is that bacon?”

 

“Hell yes it is.” Tony stood, full of slightly nervous energy. He was always a little cagey with someone in his space, but he was raised by rich socialites and was nothing if not a generous host. Just because he'd garnered a reputation in the tabloids as being a callous tornado of a man, it didn't mean he couldn't also be a half-decent guy. Or friend. 

 

“Do you need help with dishes?” She stood and nodded to outside of his room where she assumed the smell was coming from. 

 

Tony stopped in his tracks and looked at Natasha with genuine confusion. “What? Dishes?” He furrowed his brow, wheels turning behind his eyes about what exactly she meant. “No, just… come eat.”

 

He'd spread out breakfast on the island in the kitchen: fruit, waffles, hashbrowns, hollandaise. A full brunch with just enough healthy stuff that he knew Nat could find something she liked. Jarvis was a pro.

 

Nat could tell he didn’t know what she was talking about. She had never really done enough conversing with someone solely in English to understand the exact extent of her coming short when it came to colloquialisms. It had been her intent to ask if he needed help making plates, but apparently it didn’t come out correctly. “The… the dishes. Putting food on them.” She made small motions with her hands to show what she meant because in her mind, it made perfect sense.

 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Come put food on your plate.” Tony extended a hand, assuming she was still a little body high from the painkillers and might need a hand. 

 

She shook her head and laughed softly before grabbing a plate with her good hand. It then dawned on her how difficult this was going to be. Instead, Nat shifted the plate to balancing it between her side and on top of the soft cast while she attempted to use her other hand to put food on it. She wasn’t doing horribly, but it was definitely a precarious event. 

 

Tony reached for his own plate but quickly noticed Natasha and her balancing act. Of course she couldn't do a two-handed job like plating food. Tony stifled a little laugh at her gracefully maneuvering and had to interrupt. 

 

“Oh my god, please stop. Let me help.” The laugh he tried to keep in escaped. The scene was kind of adorable, especially knowing Nat probably wouldn't agree with him “I can't watch you struggle, it makes me feel like a monster.” He swiftly took the plate from atop her cast and gestured toward the spread, eyebrows high, inquiring about what she wanted to eat.

 

When he took the plate, she resisted for a second, making one attempt to grab it from him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. And she would probably end up spilling it all on his floor anyways if she did. So she let him help her. It didn’t occur to her how hungry she was until she looked at all of the food in front of her. It had been a while since she had had a proper meal, and this was amazing. Not wanting to appear too eager though, she nodded at the bacon, fruit, and waffles. 

 

Once her plate was full, Tony set it down with her juice and pulled a chair out, shooting her a playful look. He grabbed his own drink and finished the glass, refilling it and turning his attention to getting some food of his own. The Orange juice was doing wonders for his head and the could barely wait to get some breakfast in his stomach. 

 

Standing opposite Natasha at the island he dug into his food. “How is it?” he asked between bites.

 

Practically as soon as she was seated, she started eating. The bacon was calling her name, so it was gone first. As soon as she began eating, a wide smile played on her face. Natasha let it subside a little before she looked up at Tony and nodding. “All of this is amazing.” How Nat had never really had bacon before coming to America was beyond her. It had immediately become a favorite upon arriving. As she slowed her eating, she laughed softly. “Tony, the only meals you and I have had together are breakfast. People might start talking.”

 

Tony almost choked on a bite of waffle, laughing through the incident with a sip of juice. “Oh honey, they're always talking,” he mused confidently. His notorious presence in the tabloids was relatively understated in New York. He didn't relish the idea of paparazzi present on campus, and after talking to the school about how to make sure that happened, his side of the equation required him to remain relatively under the radar. So Tony had given up his usual nightclubs and throwing parties, extravagant dinners at Michelin-star restaurants studded with celebrities and high profile profile romances. It was fine by him. The mess he'd left behind in Malibu still haunted him. An entire continent and some mystery between him and the past 2 years was just what he'd come here for. 

 

“Though now that you mention it, that red hair of yours might raise some eyebrows.” 

 

Her head tilted as she took a sip from her glass of orange juice. That seemed like an odd comment to make. Lots of people had red hair. “Why would my hair make a difference?” 

 

“My ex.” Tony nodded, relatively calm and unbothered. It had been a messy split, but he had made peace with it. There was no longevity there and he knew it, and she deserved to know too. But hindsight was 20/20 and he'd figured a fair bit of stuff out since fleeing the West Coast. He also assumed everyone knew because Pepper had been a staple in his life while he was out there, plenty of times they'd been snapped at events or clubs together. But then again, Natasha was new to the country and despite his clout, he doubted the social antics of a spoiled American socialite made their way to Russian orphanages.

 

Natasha nodded slowly. Her eyes slowly narrowed, and she wondered if he called her ‘Red,’ as well, and she suddenly felt extremely jealous. It was a short and harsh flash of feeling inside, and immediately she stopped. That was odd. There was no reason for her to be jealous of anything. If he wanted to call all the girls in the world ‘Red,’ it shouldn’t make any difference to this particular redhead. She had just never had a nickname before, she supposed, so she wanted it to stay hers. Or something like that. “Ohhhh. All right.”

 

“I mean, it's just that I came here to get away. And I hadn't really thought of it, but I guess it wouldn't be too far off for someone mistake you two? Not that you're anything alike, she was.. uhh-- I mean  you're different and… like style wise, with the whole hair, face---" Tony had stumbled into full blown word vomit as he tried to back pedal.

 

Usually, Natasha would feel indignant. She hadn't allowed herself--albeit gradually--to become close to someone just to find out that she was a glorified replacement. She’d probably yell a bit at him and storm out, waiting until the next time the two crossed paths, but instead, she looked up and offered him a sympathetic smile. She could tell he was struggling, so she just waited for him to finish. Nat might not know much about this girl or what relationships were like in America, but she knew as a general rule, most girls didn’t like being compared to exes, even if there wasn’t a relationship there. But Tony wasn’t trying to do that. They had both had a rough night before and would be lying if they didn’t admit this morning had been pretty weird itself. Laughing softly, she nodded. “What was her name?”

 

“Ugh,” Tony rolled his eyes, “Pepper.” 

 

“And I didn't mean to…” He trailed off. What didn't he mean? “Sorry, never mind. It’s really not a big thing anyways. Shouldn't’ve brought it up.” Tony smiled, eager to shift the tone of their conversation. He was genuinely enjoying himself and bemoaning the past was among his least favorite pastimes.

 

“No, it’s okay, I brought it up.” She shook her head and finished up her plate carefully. It was kind of frustrating. Of course she had hurt her dominant hand. Nat was trying her best not to think of being unable to draw for the time being, but the thought continued to resurface. “So what are you doing today?”

 

Through the bright morning sun, Tony peered across the loft toward the mezzanine and where he'd abandoned his project the night before when Natasha had gotten hurt. “I guess,” he turned his attention back to Natasha, “I'll probably finish up some of Jarvis’ programming. I was knee deep in it last night when the clinic called me.” Suddenly remembering, he looked down, he was still in his Zeppelin t-shirt. He was pretty caught up in dealing with Natasha and had entirely forgotten that he probably looked worse for ware. He turned in his seat and caught his reflection in the ceiling high mirrors that lined one kitchen wall. Charming. Running a hand through his dark hair did little, if anything, and he turned back to Natasha with a dopey, resigned look on his face.

 

“All right.” It suddenly occurred to her that she was basically stuck here. Nat had ridden her bike to the gym, and Tony had driven her to his place. She was in no real rush to get back to her dorm, but the thought had occurred to her. It wasn’t as if she’d be super useful in her classes today. In fact, she had almost remembered the nurse telling her to take a day or two off, but she could hardly be trusted to remember anything from the night before. 

 

Tony read her face for some indication of what that meant. “Are you going to class with that thing? Those meds weren't fuckin’ around, I doubt your brain is firing on all cylinders.”

 

Natasha shook her head and looked down at her arm one more time. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to rest today, but I don’t really remember much.” She slowly stood and began to collect her dishes to clean up. 

 

“Hey, stop that.” Tony stood and took the dishes from her hand. “That looks kind of like the opposite of rest.” He moved the dishes to the far counter, out of Natasha’s reach and began to clean up the rest of the food. “Do you want to head back to campus? I can call you a car, but you're welcome to stick around and take it easy.”

 

“No, let me clean up.” Under other, not so pain-medicine-filled, circumstances, she easily would have been able to sidestep him and get around him, but Nat was having difficulty remaining upright. She took a step forward, trying to push past him, but to no avail. 

 

Having put down the dishes, Tony's hands were free to steady her, one hand on her shoulder the other on her waist. She tried to push past but was just unsteady enough on her feet to stumble slightly as he reached to brace her. 

 

“Sit.” 

 

“Make me.” 

 

Her eyes stared up defiantly at him as she tried once more to push past him. If only she was at her full strength. Then she’d really show him. 

 

Tony's face softened and he rolled his eyes, immediately releasing his hold on Natasha. “I'm not gonna make you, just sit.” He turned his back to her and put the rest of the food in the fridge. “I'm making coffee, you in?” He asked over his shoulder.

 

As soon as he turned his back, she tiptoed behind him and picked up the two dishes, holding them close to her side as she shuffled over to where the sink was. “Coffee’s good.” Nat stood on her tiptoes to be taller than the counter so she could set the two plates on it. One dish and one hand at a time, she set the plates in the sink and began to wash them. 

 

If Natasha wanted to make it clear that she did what /she/ wanted and didn't take no for an answer, well she was doing a pretty bang up job. Tony wasn't about to scold her - babysitting other human beings wasn't his thing. So he made coffee and shook his head at the stubborn redhead.

 

Eventually she finished cleaning the dishes, but once she was done, she started to feel dizzy again. Her eyes closed, and she held onto the counter with her good hand. Natasha cleared her throat once and closed her eyes. Goddammit. 

 

Tony turned and saw her leaning heavy on the counter. Crap. He took a step toward her, bent and picked her up. Thank god for greasy breakfast, Tony was feeling a hundred times better with food in his belly. He steadied himself with Natasha in his arms and started walking out into the loft. 

 

“Couch or bed? Game-time decision.” Tony paused, eyeing the living room and the still-open bedroom door.

 

Nat felt her feet leave the floor and immediately froze. She couldn’t remember the last time someone picked her up, and it was definitely an odd feeling. It was almost comforting to feel her body being held against someone else’s, knowing that she was safe. She almost missed his question and quickly shouted out an answer. “Couch.”

 

“Excellent choice.” Tony set her down on the couch and grabbed some pillows from around the room. “How you feeling?”

 

“Dizzy.” The more accurate word was ‘fatigued,’ but it wasn’t quite coming to Nat. She lied there on the couch and just watched Tony as he ran around the room. It was nice to be taken care of, and she wanted to thank him, but he didn’t seem to want to stop moving long enough for her to do so. 

 

“Yep, that sounds about right." With Natasha settled on the couch, Tony went to the kitchen, filling a glass of water. “So next time will you listen when I t-- when I ask you to sit down?” He set the water down next to the couch, giving her a knowing, told-you-so kind of look.

 

“When you  _ tell  _ me to sit down?” Nat smiled tiredly as she finished his sentence. She looked up at Tony when he came back and looked down at her. Usually, the look on his face would be cause enough for her to smack him and leave, but either the medicine was keeping her mellow, or it was growing on her. 

 

“I said ask.” Tony put his hands up in fake surrender, smirking at her.

 

He found a remote for the giant flat screen hanging on one of the lofts interior walls opposite the couch. About to hand it it Natasha he paused, “Or I could get you another piece of tech to break into.”

 

The idea sounded appealing to Nat, but she hardly believed she was coherent enough to figure this one out right now. “I’ll take a rain check on the tech. I’m sure I’d just make myself look stupid right now. Not to mention I only have one hand.”

 

“TV it is,” Tony handed her the remote adding  “Jarvis can also help, if that's weird on your hand.”

 

Natasha took the remote and began to fidget with the tv. It was definitely the most high tech tv she had ever played around with before. “Have you ever seen the movie Anastasia?”

 

“It's a cartoon, yeah??” You could see the wheels turning in Tony's head, probing his memory to see if it was something he knew. “Doubt I've seen it though, I usually opt for music over movies. I've got commitment issues”

 

“That’s disappointing.” Slowly she attempted to search for the movie, having difficulty searching with her non dominant hand. Nat gave up and started using her injured one, quickly earning a sharp wince from the redhead. 

 

“I'm used to it,” Tony mused to himself. He was nothing if not a massive disappointment to most anyone who relied on him, but it was still just his dark sense of humor. He headed off in the direction of the mezzanine, determined to get some work done while Natasha recovered on the couch. But before he'd made it more than a few steps, he saw her fighting with the remote.

 

“Hey, I saw that.” She was clearly in pain and not telling him. 

 

Natasha sighed softly and just let the remote drop onto her chest. “Это действительно чертовски больно…” Her voice came out soft and despondent as she closed her eyes. 

 

“Yeah, okay, I don't need Jarvis to tell me that's not good.” He sighed and strode toward the bedroom where they'd abandoned her small bottle of prescription pain meds. Emerging, he shook the bottle, “I hate to break it to you, but today is gonna be a write off.” Tony gingerly opened the bottle and poured out too. 

 

“You've got a full belly, so these shouldn't be too hard on you. But there gonna knock you out.” He outstretched his hand to her, offering two white pills. 

 

Natasha took them from him without saying anything and simply dropped them into her mouth. Her eyes remained closed as she just laid there on the couch. She took in a deep breath, feeling a strange haze wash over her mind. 

 

Tony went to pass her some water, but before he could she'd already downed both pills. He looked at her with something close to faint confusion or reverence, and reminded himself that she would likely keep surprising her. 

 

“You good? Should take about a half hour or so for those to kick in. J, will you get some Anastasia for Red?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she nodded and continued to sit there. Taking in a deep breath, she used one hand to pull a blanket over herself and smiled at the thought of the movie. If it was music Tony wanted, it was music Tony would get. 

 

Natasha was barely twenty minutes into the movie when the medicine kicked in. She wasn’t sure when exactly she started singing, but at some point she did. Usually, she wouldn’t have a half bad voice, but the redhead had pretty much lost all sense of herself, and therefore of her voice. But she sang along anyways. “Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember..”

 

Tony had grabbed one of his tablets from the mezzanine and was idly working, half checking on Natasha. It wasn't until the movie got into full swing that his attention was entirely drawn from his work to her singing along with the film. He couldn't help but watch. The redhead had lost whatever inhibition had kept her lucid and modest and she was belting along to every song Tony had heard. He stifled a laugh, not at her, but the entire scene and was enjoying it all more than he would admit.

 

“And a song.. someone sings..” Her voice slowly trailed off as the song came to a close. The figure of the little red headed orphan on the screen sat gracefully on the floor as the vision faded. “Once..upon a December..” 

 

Tony didn't want to admit he'd been paying attention. Natasha singing was one thing, but he realized he hadn't looked at his tablet in minutes and had been fully engrossed in the movie. He rolled his eyes, at himself this time, and picked himself up off the chair he'd claimed as his spot. 

 

‘Okay, shove over,’ he announced to Nat, bringing his work to the couch and finding a spot for himself at the opposite end of the couch. He picked her her feet in one hand and let them rest on his lap as he kept pretending he cared about the work on his device.

 

It wasn’t as if she was in any state to stop him from doing what he wanted. Nat was just sort of happy he had come over onto the couch with her. When he picked up her feet, she simply let them fall back down wherever as she sat glued to the tv. Dimitri had come on screen, and it was the first time they had really seen him since the opening number. Immediately, a smile broke across her face and stayed there as he moved across the screen. He was her favorite. 

 

And just like that some dude slid on screen and it apparently Natasha was tickled pink. Tony should have entirely abandoned the pretense of either working watching the movie because Nat was putting on her own show and it was wholly more entertaining than anything else. Cartoons weren't always Tony’s thing. But whether it was full-on nostalgia or her prescription pain meds, the couch-locked redhead was in her own world and it was hard to look away.

 

“He’s a негодяй, a real scoundrel. He’s gonna..” Nat sat up less than gracefully and crawled over to where Tony was, sitting right next to him, wrapping one arm around his and limply pointing at the screen with her wrapped hand. “Well, I can’t tell you yet. You have to watch the movie.” The smile stayed on her face, and she didn’t move from next to him, resting against his side. 

 

A laugh escaped Tony's lips as he tried to maintain his composure, doped-up Natasha was funny. She settled beside him and Tony shifted, getting comfortable. Having someone casually touching him, even if it was just because of her medication, surprised the billionaire. Most people who ended up at his place were usually shooed out early. One night stands, friends crashing on the couch - Tony was notorious for being protective of his space and eager to have it all to himself. He peered down at Natasha’s red hair, immediately chastising himself for enjoying the moment.

 

As the movie continued to play out, Natasha only became more comfortable next to Tony. At some point, her head rested on his shoulder. She got mostly quiet, singing the songs when they came, and saying a few lines here and there. Every line was memorized, but she had become so enthralled with the movie that she hardly was able to open her mouth half of the time. During the final scene when Anya was able to defeat Rasputin, the medicated girl took Tony’s hand and squeezed it tightly as possible in her less than coherent state. “She’s amazing.. she’s so strong.”

 

Tony glanced up from his tablet. He'd eventually fallen back into work as Natasha had slowly relaxed. “She's pretty ok,” he agreed, flashing a smile at the redhead and turning his attention to the final moments of the movie.

 

Seeing the last few minutes of Dimitri and Anya on the boat together, Nat silenced once more. Her head slowly nuzzled its way into the crook of his neck. “Did you like it?” 

 

Tony closed his eyes and sighed, her head was heavy on his shoulder, uninhibited and surprisingly vulnerable for Natasha. “It was solid.” He turned his head to reply but only ended up answering into her hair. 

 

“How’re you feeling? Everything feeling mostly numb?”

 

“Extremely. I feel  _ fantastic. _ ” Nat’s eyes closed for a second as she held him there. Everything felt amazing. She had seen her favorite movie. Tony was here. She had food. It was the best day she had in a long time. “Tony?”

 

“Yeah, Red?”

 

“Today is the best day of my life.” The statement was part hyperbole, part truth. It was definitely the best she could remember, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this happy. 

 

Tony laughed warmly, “I'm glad. Fucking up your arm should, at the very least, come with some perks. I mean, beyond the percs.” He chuckled at his own joke, realizing that in her current state, English wordplay might be over Nat's head.

 

All that really registered for Natasha was the fact that he had laughed, and that was enough for her. She smiled and closed her eyes once more. “You’re really great. You should laugh more.”

 

“No argument there. Very great. But also you're not thinking straight. I'm going to tell sober you that you were nice to me, and she's gonna be pissed you let your guard slip.” He'd seen his fair share of people spill their guts on plenty of drugs. Hell, he'd had more than a few unfortunate admissions while under the influence. And though he was joking, he was also pretty sure that sober Natasha would be mortified at her show of tenderness.

 

“I need to lighten up,” she said passively, letting out a long sigh as her body fully relaxed against his. “I don’t like being the way I am. It’s exhausting.”

 

He may not have been the same kind of tightly wound, and no one would ever be caught telling Tony Stark to lighten up, but he understood. Sometimes just being who you are was unfathomably exhausting.

 

Tony met her sigh with one of his own, “Yeah. It is, isn't it?” The walls they both built up around themselves were obvious, especially to each other. Though knowing it was true didn't mean either of them was keen on tearing down those defenses.

 

Nat nodded softly and opened her eyes. Her grasp on Tony never lessened. “If I tell you something, you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

 

“Ohh..kay..” Tony replied, skeptical. In his experience, loaded questions like that were just that - loaded. Like starting a sentence with ‘Don't be mad’ or ‘Can I ask you a question?’, whatever came next likely wouldn't sit well with it's recipient. Not that he expected that from Natasha, but the question made him bristle, his body stiffening slightly. 

 

Her eyes remained fixed ahead of her as she held onto him. No sound came from her at first. It was almost as if she hadn’t heard his response, but eventually, she took in a long breath and spoke. “I’m really scared.” It was all she said at first, not really sure  _ what  _ to say after that. “Like..” Her head shook, and she simply closed her eyes. 

 

“Like…” Tony prompted, no clearer on what she meant. Pain meds were a funny thing and he wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't just talking emotional nonsense from the drugs. Then a switch flipped in his brain. Was it him? Missing cues was practically a cliché of his now, but he thought she'd been having a pretty okay time since he'd picked her up at the hospital. “What do you mean?” His brow was furrowed in concern and he sat straighter up, not wanting her to… he wasn't sure. But suddenly he was a lot more uneasy.

 

“I wish I could just go back home sometimes. I don’t think it’s worth it.” She didn’t even know where to begin between her financial struggles and constantly just feeling as if she clearly didn’t belong. 

 

“Home is a funny thing.” Tony sighed, trying to figure out how to respond to someone who likely wouldn't remember what he said. He tried to imagine his own home. His parents mansion in New York? His own house in Malibu? Both seemed too haunted by the past to hold the warmth of the word “home".

 

The billionaire peered down at Natasha, his face visibly lost for the right thing to say. “It's never the way you remember.”

 

“Tony, I’m drowning here.” She rubbed her face with her good hand and groaned softly. “I literally have nothing.” A small frown appeared on her face, and she waited for a second to speak. Why would she tell Tony any of this? The guy had everything. He didn’t want to hear her problems. “I don’t think I can manage to keep this up anymore.” It didn’t really occur to her that she was really only half telling him her issues and probably was making no sense, but she kept talking anyways.

Tony cocked his head and focused on her words. Maybe he was tired from his night on the couch but he was having trouble following her cryptic admissions. Being so far from her home must be hard, and based on her general demeanor, he could imagine she wasn't making loads of friends. But that didn't seem enough to feel so… lost. The look on her face was heartbreaking. Should he press the issue? Would she make any more sense if he did? He shifted, freeing his arm from hers and instead wrapping it around her shoulder, pulling her close.

 

She didn’t want to cry, and she didn’t really feel the capacity to do so right now other than a few tears that collected in her eyes. They didn’t move or go anywhere. The words wouldn’t quite come to Nat at first, and she simply sat there. “I have nothing here. I’m not being.. dramatic. I came with nothing, and I have nothing.” It was about as close as she’d get to saying she was completely broke. “Every day, alone, with nothing. It’s too much.”

 

“Red, I…” he didn't know what to say. He understood the feeling. But Tony had learned from a young age that no one wanted a billionaire genius to commiserate with them. There's something insulting about someone who's had everything handed to them trying to play like he understood hardship. 

 

“Being alone gets pretty hard. That I understand.”

 

“I work so hard, but I just lost my last студент.” She wasn’t sure when, but at some point, she slipped back into Russian. Perhaps it was because the Russian word for student sounded the exact same as its English counterpart. Or maybe it was just because it was comfortable to Nat and she needed some normalcy. She continued in Russian, mumbling softly.  _ “I have no way to pay for this shit. Scholarships can only get me so far.”  _

 

She closed her eyes and leaned closer to him. It slowly occurred to her that she hadn’t been speaking in English, and she cleared her throat as she let him hold her. “I’m sorry I ever pushed you away.”

 

Tony face fell. How could it not? Natasha’s confession was heartbreaking even to someone like the engineer who fancied himself completely callous. He didn't need to fully comprehend her Russian to understand that things weren't good. He let her rest on him, sighing. He would figure out a way to help. A man of unlimited resources was a waste he couldn't at least sometimes spread a little around. And he much preferred Nat smiling to this. 

 

When she finally switched back to English, Tony was grateful for a slight change in subject, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Don't sweat it, I was kind of terrible.”

 

“So was Dimitri, but he was a hero in the end.” Her reference was probably lost on him. She had no clue how much he actually had been paying attention to the movie, but it was something familiar to her, and something she cared about, and so it seemed Tony might be too. 

 

“That's how they get you,” he smiled, sizing up his own role in the redhead’s life as of about a week ago. “We'll figure it out though, okay?” Looking down at Natasha he tried to catch her gaze, even in her slightly inebriated state he tried to show her a sliver of seriousness. He wasn't sure how, but he was confident he could figure out a way to help somehow. “Just don't worry about it right now.”

 

Natasha tilted her head up as she laid against him to look up at the genius. She offered the best smile she could afford at the moment and just nodded, feeling safe having someone this close. It was a stark contrast from the feelings she had expected to have with letting someone this close both physically and emotionally. She gave a small nod and just relaxed as she looked up at him. 

 

“Y’know, I’m sure Jarv--” Tony began, looking to lighten the mood with another movie. He only got a few words out before his AI cut him off with a call from the front desk.

 

“Apologies, Sir, it appears the front desk would like to speak with you.”

 

Immediately, Tony looked to his phone. Who would just be dropping by unannounced in the middle of the afternoon?

 

“Go for Tony.”

 

The voice on the other end of the phone was hesitant, the slightly awkward but always friendly guy who manned the front door to Tony’s building. Because the elevator opened directly into his penthouse, Tony’s floor required clearance, granted either by Tony himself or Les at the desk. 

 

“You’ve got a guest coming up, Mr Stark.” The doorman’s voice wavered slightly, not inspiring confidence in the young billionaire. 

 

“/Who/ is coming up, Les?” He asked, much more pointedly. “I’m not expecting anyone. You should have--”

 

The flustered concierge was already trying to blurt out a response, “She said you were expecting her, Official business from Stark Industries, your assistant, flown in for the weekend at your--”

 

Tony cut him off. “Who?”

 

“Ms. Potts.” Les’ voice was small.

 

Tony opened his mouth to speak, ready to reprimand the doorman that had just granted his ex-girlfriend direct access to his apartment. His hole where no one was supposed to be able to bother him. But before he could speak he heard the soft, familiar ding of the elevator, announcing Pepper’s presence. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Natasha looked up at Tony, still curled up against him as the elevator dinged. It didn’t really register to Nat what was going on, but she could feel Tony’s energy change. “What’s going on?” Her head tilted a little. 

 

“Nothing, nothing. Don't…just chill here, don't worry.” Had it truly been nothing, Tony probably wouldn't have been repeating himself. His nervous energy was palpable as he slid off the couch, quickly attempting to replace himself with cushions next to Nat. He made it to his feet just as Pepper appeared, striding confidently into an apartment that wasn't her own like she had a right to be anywhere she pleased. 

 

“Anthony,” Pepper announced as her eyes fell on the young billionaire. He wished he was in a slightly better state, and not sweats and his old t shirts. Not that Pepper hadn't seen him in far worse states, but as usual she looked impeccable. The redhead looked flawless in a cream coloured shift dress and a dramatic, grey wool jacket that just grazed her knees. The look on her face was unimpressed, yet amused, as though she'd expected to find Tony in a far worse state. Though, he assumed finding him with another redhead accounted for the obnoxiously self satisfied look on her face. 

 

“Pepper,” Tony replied, trying to straighten himself out after a long stint on the couch. “You know, lying to my doorman to get into my apartment is borderline Swimfan, right? Psycho ex girlfriend kind of shit?” He knew very well Pepper was far from a psycho ex girlfriend. He'd been the messy handful in their relationship, but Tony was unprepared and single-mindedly focused on throwing her off her game. He wasn't prepared to see her face again so soon, and definitely not with a half-conscious girl on his couch.

 

Natasha didn’t really know what was going on, but she did know Tony was gone, and for some reason that made her sad. A less than graceful groan made its way from over where she laid incapacitated on his couch with some pillows underneath her barely coherent body. She forced herself to take a deep breath as she cuddled a pillow that wasn’t quite as warm as him. “What’s going on?”

 

Tony's head whipped around towards the voice on the couch. “Nothing, Red. I'll just be… a second.” Tony could hear the hesitation in his voice and he hated it. He'd practiced this conversation in his head, in the shower, in shitty low moments when the weight of his life caught up with him. But he didn't expect her to show up, and no matter what he'd played out in his mind, he hadn't prepared for her wandering into his apartment when he had someone over. Even if it wasn't necessarily what she assumed was going on. 

 

“Do you wanna… talk in my room?” he suggested, not wanting Natasha to get caught in the crossfire. Or worse, have Pepper air all his dirty laundry in front of her.

 

Pepper looked past him, to Natasha struggling to keep her eyes open on the couch, and then back to Tony. “No, I think we're good right here,” she answered curtly.

 

Nat blinked at Pepper, her eyes immediately drawn to the hair. “What is it with you, and.. and redheads?”

 

Pepper’s back straightened as she pulled her purse closer to her. “Maybe a different room wouldn’t be such a horrible idea.” Without saying anything or waiting for direction from Tony, the ex-girlfriend walked towards where she assumed his room to be. 

 

Tony sucked in a breath and turned to follow Pepper, stopping only to shoot a look in Nat's direction. He rolled his eyes at her comment, silently chastising her for her comment even though in her current state all subtlety would be lost.

 

He'd barely made it through the threshold of his room before he blurted out, “So why are you here, Pep? This can't be a social call.” His tone was icy, if not familiar and he was already regretting their change of location. In his bedroom was not where he wanted his exes, and his eyes immediately fell on  the unmade bed, knowing instantly that Pepper would assume it's disheveled state was due to his and Natasha’s escapades from the night before.

 

Her eyes certainly did linger momentarily on the bed. Composed as ever, she simply took in a long breath and shook her head. “It’s your parents, Tony. They’re worried about you.” Finally, she looked back at him, her arms crossing over her chest in front of her. “I told them if you weren’t dead already that you were perfectly fine. They didn’t seem to be satisfied by that answer.”

 

“Great. Excellent. I'm alive, everyone's thrilled. That it?” He crossed his own arms and stepped to the side, clearing the pathway to the bedroom door and looking expectantly between it and Pepper. It wasn't subtle, but it got the message across.  _ If that's the only reason you're here, you've got your answer. Now leave. _ Tony's face was stoic and unimpressed. He'd never liked having a babysitter, and his parents and ex girlfriend teaming up to keep tabs on him was beyond aggravating. He'd come here to hide out, away from all of them.

 

“Your mother wants you to call her. At least.” She stood there, unmoving, just as her emotions. The fact that she had come out here to see him spoke volumes of her relationship with Maria. She had grown extremely close to her over the period of time the two had dated, and when Tony left, they both sort of needed each other, even though Pepper didn’t quite miss him as much as his mother did. “She’s worried sick. This little stunt you’re pulling, it’s making it harder for them to move on too. You’re being selfish.”

 

“Stunt?! That's fucking rich, Pepper.” Tony's fuse was shorter than he'd care to admit, and Pepper knew exactly what buttons to push to get him there quickly. “I came out here to try and fix my life, stay out of the spotlight, quit hurting myself and anyone else for that matter and you're going to show up and call me selfish--" Tony was legitimately lost for words. He cut himself off, worried that his voice was getting too loud and into that register that Pepper loved to vilify him for. Aggressive. Defensive. Manipulative. He wasn't about to endure another one of her lectures about his lack of self control. Not to mention, medicated or not, he didn't want Nat overhearing their conversation. 

 

Tony swallowed hard and composed himself. “Is that it? Are we done?”

 

“I’m not the ‘fucking rich’ one here, Tony. You’re lucky your parents haven’t cut you off. Trust me, it wasn’t for a lack of your father trying. Thank God your mother still cares about you.” Her jaw clenched as she watched him. He honestly could have looked worse. She had seen his worse, and this wasn’t nearly that bad. Taking in a long breath, Pepper finally looked him in the eye. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here, but you need to fix this. You’re not the only person who lost Jarvis, okay? It was hard on your parents too.”

 

Tony felt a pang for his mother. If he was being completely honest with himself, he only really resented her for standing by his father all these years. Howard had been a shit parent from the get go and Tony blamed him for so much that had gone wrong in his life. Maria had been nothing but sweet to her only boy, who needed more attention and more support than either of the two of them could muster. You didn't become billionaires by being idle and spending quality time with your family. You made sacrifices. And Tony's childhood, a functionally loving family unit had been their sacrifice. But he was already on the defensive, and being vulnerable around Pepper now sat pretty close to the top of the genius’ list of things he liked to avoid.

 

“You know, I don't give a shit how hard it was on anyone else. And I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but there's no ‘fixing this’. Howard isn't suddenly going to be some model parent, and Mo--” he caught himself and continued,  “Maria… is his wife.” The weight of Tony's dysfunctional family was visibly heavy on him. Jarvis had been his only real family and when he'd died, Tony had all but shut down. It wasn't a loss he could properly mourn, so he'd settled for numbing everything. But losing Jarvis had really shown him how little his parents had actually engaged with him, and he wasn't about to build some meaningful relationship with them now out of necessity. 

 

Tony’s Freudian slip wasn’t lost on Pepper. Instead, she let him finish what he wanted to say, her head shaking in obvious disagreement as he went. “You can deny it all you want, but you know you miss her. She’s your mother, for God’s sake. She didn’t do anything to you. You can’t blame your father’s stupidity on everything, okay? That will get you nowhere in life and you know it.” It’d had been a year and a complete opposite side of the country, but Tony was still the same—stupid. 

 

She shook her head once more and commented shortly as she began to rummage through her purse. “And don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’ Patronizing or not, you lost that privilege a long time ago.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think I was being affectionate? You're still so easy rile up, Princess.” Tony didn't bother to wait for a response, instead walking back into the living room. He was fairly certain their exchange was over. Or, at least he was ready for it to be over. 

 

“So, I'll call Maria, they'll throw a “thank god he's alive" party and we can be a happy family again,” he tossed over his shoulder as he made his way towards the elevator, a clear sign that he was ready for Pepper to vacate his apartment.

 

Her jaw remained clenched as she followed him out, still rummaging through her purse. “Don’t call me that.” Soon, she found what she was looking for, a small, light blue envelope with Tony’s name on it in small flowing print. As soon as she made it into the living room, she scoffed, shaking her head, envelope clutched in her hand. “You know you should at least show some level of respect for your parents. You would be  _ nothing  _ if it wasn’t for them.”

 

Tony turned on his heels to face the redhead, “Tell me again, Pepper. Tell me what a nothing I am--” his voice broke off as his eyes fell on the envelope. The young billionaire swallowed hard and licked his lips, the pang of craving a drink crept up the back of his throat. He didn't care, he didn't need whatever she'd brought with her. He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen, imagining the ire he would draw from his disapproving ex if he cracked open a beer in front of her. A cruel smile twisted his mouth. “Respect has to be earned, Virginia.” Tony dragged out her name, like nails on a chalkboard. “Putting your trust in people who don't deserve it, you get burned.” He leveled his gaze, catching Peppers eyes with a seriousness he knew spoke volumes to their past.

 

Her eyes burned as she stood there in front of him. She really shouldn’t have come. What did she expect? Tony, happy, healthy? It was wishful thinking to say the least. The humiliation she had felt just over a year before because of him was all coming back. It was all she felt when she saw him. The only way she could picture him, drunk and in bed with some girl she had never even seen before. Her teeth dig down into the side of her cheek as her eyes flickered away, down to the ground immediately. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to hurt him just as much as he had hurt her. He deserved to burn for what he had done to his mother, what he had done to her. Sniffling once, she pulled herself back up before she could feel herself melt into a volley of tears. The last thing she needed was for him to see her cry. Again. 

 

Taking one step forward, Pepper clenched the envelope and shoved it against his chest with as much force as she could muster. “You could be so much, Tony. It’s your own goddamn fault that all of your friends hate you. It’s your fault that you’re alone,” she scoffed, nodding over to Natasha and her less than coherent state, “drugging up girls just so they can tolerate your company and pity sex.”

 

Tony stumbled backwards as her hand pressed into his chest, immediately reaching to steady her wrist pushing against his weight. “If you took two seconds to see beyond what you /want/ to see… she's got a fucking cast on, Pepper. I know you don't believe me capable of it, but sometimes I can pull my shit together enough to help someone else. Imagine that.” 

 

He realized his fingers were wrapped around her slender wrist and, making eye contact with her, he immediately let go.

 

“Well maybe if you took two seconds to see beyond what  _ you  _ want to see, you’d wake up and see the trail of bodies you’ve left behind.” As he let go of her wrist, she grabbed his with her free hand and shoved the letter into it with her other. Her whole body was rigid as she felt a tear slip down her face. Taking a step back, Pepper wiped it away with the back of her hand, looking back at Nat once more. It was about time for her to leave, she figured. But for some reason, she didn’t want to. A part of her felt that in staying here, she was making Tony pay for what he had done, as if he wasn’t already miserable enough. But it soon became clear she was just upsetting herself in the process. 

 

Pulling her purse back onto her shoulder, she turned her back to Tony, facing Natasha full on. “If you’re smart, you’ll walk out now because it’s not worth dealing with all of his shit only to find out he’s going to disappoint you.”

 

Nat had only really been paying half attention to what was going on. Most of what she had been watching was just making sure Tony was okay, so when he had disappeared into his room, it didn’t take much for her to just tune out. But as soon as Pepper spoke to her, Natasha tried to focus on her. “I already know.. he’s an asshole.” She said it dismissively with a wave of her hand as she shook her head. 

 

Tony tilted his head, watching Natasha’s reaction intently from behind Peppers back. He squinted, trying to figure out if this was the drugs talking or if she had maybe just done him a solid and given Pepper no reason to stay and keep talking. “See?” he butted in, trying to draw Pepper’s attention back, “My reputation spans from coast to coast - your friendly little Tony Sucks press tour was totally unnecessary.” 

 

There were very few cards she had left to play at this point. But suddenly, one more came to her. A bitter look appeared on her face and she crossed her arms. “Yea, that’s true. He is. Oh, and did he tell you the part about him being a depressed alcoholic? Or how he drives you into the ground with his moods and dependency issues?” With that, she turned, pushing past Tony to walk to the elevator. It wasn’t exactly riveting, but alcoholism and emo boys weren’t things most girls were usually into staying around for. “Goodbye, Anthony.” The doors closed on her attempt at feigned confidence as she gave a small head bow, trying her best to seem stronger than how hurt she actually felt. 

 

The look on Tony's face was a mix of horror and ire, eyes going momentarily wide before narrowing, a truly menacing glare. But Pepper was already out of sight. She didn't stay to watch the heat creep up Tony's neck, the angry itch behind his eyes. He was suddenly too hot, the room too small. And he couldn't bring himself to turn around and face Natasha, so he took a few long strides into the kitchen and flung open the fridge door. The engineer stared at the beer in the fridge and immediately slammed the door shut, opting instead for the freezer. He kept a bottle of vodka on ice, and all things considered it seemed a hell of a lot more efficiently than a breakfast beer. 

 

Natasha furrowed her brow. “Hm.” It was all she really said at this point, trying to reign in all the possible comments she could make. Instead, she just stayed quiet, a small frown appearing on her face. It didn’t take a super sleuth to guess that Tony probably didn’t want her finding out, or he would have told her already. The last thing she wanted was for him to be uncomfortable, but she didn’t really know how to help the situation. The small redhead took a deep breath and pushed herself up, her feet dragging as she shuffled her way into the kitchen where he was. Her body leaned against the doorway lazily as she watched him. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine, why do you ask?” Tony answered too quickly. His tone was friendly, forced and didn't match his body language that was practically twitching with tension as he fetched himself a glass. He turned to face her, glass in hand as he poured himself a healthy few ounces of vodka. The mask he wore was obvious, impenetrable and practiced, a clear warning label to others not to press forward anymore and bother him, as he tossed back the contents of his glass, wincing slightly before refilling the glass. A drink was probably the last thing he needed to have right now. He’d just be proving Pepper’s point, but he needed something to cope with this revelation. 

 

Had she not been on her medicine, maybe she would have been more wary of the warning signs and the obvious fact that he did not want anyone to ask him questions about this, but right now, she was not getting that message. It was almost as if he was challenging her to say ‘because your ex just said you were problematic and you seem pretty pissed,’ but she wasn’t sure. Everything still seemed pretty hazy, and Tony’s body language cues were all off. So instead of answering him, she sat there silently for just a beat too long, her face frozen with the expression of someone trying to figure out a math problem just beyond his cognitive reach. An uneasy breath escaped her lips as she watched him. “You’re.. upset.”

 

“What this?” He held up the bottle, giving it a once over before putting it back in the freezer. “Just a post-brunch cocktail. You're on meds, otherwise I'd say join me.” Tony clenched his jaw, muscles subtly flexing beneath his skin. He tried a smile, but the attempt was forced and the pain in his eyes read,  _ I'm sorry, I'm a mess. _

 

Without saying anything, Natasha simply moved from her spot in the door and walked over to where Tony was. She wasn’t really sure if it was the medicine or herself, or if she was even thinking, but before she realized it, her arms were wrapped around him, her head rested against his chest. For a second, all she did was breathe and just hold him there. Words never were her strong suit when it came to things like this. All the words in all her stories never came close to any interpersonal relationship she’d ever had. But right now it seemed that both of them needed each other. 

 

Tony sighed, shoulders slumping as Natasha arms held him tight. It wasn't that he objected to the physical contact, but none of this was what he wanted to deal with right now. His initial instinct to break free and hide slowly faded as the vodka settled and a warmth in his stomach bloomed, reassuring and immediately relaxing him. He silently chastised himself for needing it, but Tony Stark was the master of coping and this was just part of his arsenal. He closed his eyes momentarily and tried to convince himself this wasn't the end of the world.

 

“She’sjjjustabitch.” Her words were sort of muffled as she held him, gradually pulling her head away. Nat has missed out on the majority of their conversation, but if his reaction was any hint, she knew Pepper had done some shit.

 

Natasha wouldn't see it, but Tony cracked a small smile and agreed, “You're right. What a cunt.” He huffed out a small laugh, momentarily reassured that Nat was still wasn't quite lucid and hopefully wouldn't remember all the gory details of Peppers surprise visit. Regardless that was a conversation for later. He pulled back from the hug, “You should still be horizontal, ma’am.”

 

“You helped me, I’m helping you.” Her words were soft as she reluctantly let go of him, partly out of not wanting to stop holding him, but mostly because she needed him to balance. Nat instead looked up at Tony and tried to offer the best smile that she could. She still felt extremely light headed, and it was now occurring to her that maybe following Tony to the kitchen like this was a bad idea. Her feet were firmly planted in the ground, but she felt that if she moved from her current soil to transplant herself somewhere else, she might wilt.

 

Tony held her there a minute more until he noticed her smile falter a bit. His head tilted and he realized what was going on. Sure he had shit going on, but she had a fractured wrist and was trying to comfort him. He needed to help her. “Come on, Red. Let’s get you back to that movie.”

 

Natasha did not have much of a choice but to follow him. He was more or less her anchor at the moment. She passively objected, groaning softly. “But the movie is over.” Her feet moved with his since there were not a lot of other options for her, but she still wanted to stand with him and make sure he was okay. But it became clear that he was not giving her that option. 

 

“Okay, then nap time.” His drink was still in his hand, but his free arm was wrapped securely around Natasha. Slowly, the two made it over to the couch. Sure enough, the end credits to the movie were playing, paired with a very clearly 90s cover of “Journey to the Past.” He gently set her down on the couch and placed his drink on a coaster on the table beside the couch. His shoulders turned with his head to face the couch once more, but then his eyes met with hers. She had been watching him. This whole time. But now was the first time he had noticed. This caused Tony to pause. Instead of averting his eyes though, he continued to stare at her like a deer caught in the headlights. Only there was no sense of panic behind his eyes. He was too tired for that. “You good, Red?”

 

“You’re hurt too.” The redhead spoke. There was still a lot of medicine in her system, and she would likely not remember this tomorrow. The eloquence she spoke with may or may not have been intentional. All she knew is there was something going on with Tony, and he had been kind enough to help her when she was hurt. She should at least try to return the favor. Had she been fully lucid, Nat may not have been so inclined to act familiar, but inhibitions were lost in the moment, and she patted the couch next to her.

 

He wasn’t expecting to get called out so sharply. Most people wouldn’t dare call him out on his bullshit--except for Pepper--but he supposed that after her bluntness the other day when directly pointing out his age and the fact that he was drinking in public should have been a clue. Tony let out a sharp huff as he plopped on the couch next to Natasha, arms spread wide from either side. One arm fell on her shoulders, and he held her, similar to how they were when they had been so rudely interrupted. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.” It was the closest he would get to apologizing for what Nat had witnessed. He felt bad. He felt embarrassed. Natasha hadn’t left yet. He hadn’t quite scared her off, but Tony tried to keep himself from thinking that this was simply because she was immobile at the moment.

 

He waited for a response from her. He expected something reassuring. Maybe an “it’s okay” or a “don’t worry about it,” but there was nothing. Tony tilted his head and peered down at her. The redhead was once again rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. It was nice, but slightly frustrating because he could not see her face and therefore did not know what she was thinking. 

 

Breaking the silence, she whispered, “but I did.”

 

Tony’s lips pursed sadly, and his eyes closed. 

 

_ But she did. _

 

“That you did, Red.” His eyes moved downward once more to look over her. He could tell her breathing had slowed, and her body had settled a bit. Tony craned his neck a bit to try and catch a glimpse of her face. She was out. It was probably for the best. She needed her rest, and he needed to let the last hour or so process in his mind. Gently and quietly, he reached over to grab his glass from earlier and took a long sip, hissing between his teeth once he finished it. “That you did.”


End file.
